Curse

Im really him she really her
You play around boy you could get hurt
I fell lin love in love wit the percs
I spend 10 racks on sum percs
She got 10 racks in her purse
I put yo bsf in a hearse
This ain't a dead end its a curse (aha)

I whip it up like a chef
I know u got nothing left
I took it all u can’t pay yo rent
Glock on my right nd sword on my left
Shoot at yo head we dont aim for yo legs

They wanna walk how i walk
They wanna talk how i talk
I got too many sons
All of them bitches my bots
I cannot think right off wok
But ill still slide wit a Glock
Nd u wanna be me so bad
U better step on yo block

I got his blood on my shirt
I put that boy in the durt
Yo music is ass u should go work
Im really him she really hеr