Fresh To Death

[Chorus: GameboyJones]
Who's the man, who's the man on the block-block-block?
Haters mad, haters mad, taking shot-shot-shots
What they saying? What they saying? They all talk-talk-talk
Walk 'em down, walk 'em down with the blah-blah-blah
Yeah, 'cause you know I ain't lacking
Twin blowers on my side, they get ratchet
Dress to the nines, and my nines can get active
I was born fresh to Death, fetch the casket

[Verse 1: DizzyEight]
Yeah, I'm who they hate and who they love to mention
Oh, that boy can't get hot? That's why he causing friction
Man, he said he want that smoke, but are you really with it
Man, he say he got that stick, but are you really hitters?
How you say you pulling cards with no credit?
Better off being more like the Kid, you should dead it
Man, them boys get declined like I'm running up their debit
Look, ain't no bounce back when I check 'em with the truth
Man, I'm covered with this weapon I choose
I keep it equipped anytime I gotta step in the room
I'm focused, notice the boy very attuned
You hoping I slip, that something I never could do
In truth, it gotta be Death to that Kid that I used to be
Truthfully, used to be with all of the action and foolery
I leave that black in the past 'cause that path had alluded me
When I die to myself ain't a thing you can do to me like

[Chorus: GameboyJones]
Who's the man, who's the man on the block-block-block?
Haters mad, haters mad, taking shot-shot-shots
What they saying? What they saying? They all talk-talk-talk
Walk 'em down, walk 'em down with the blah-blah-blah
Yeah, 'cause you know I ain't lacking
Twin blowers on my side, they get ratchet
Dress to the nines, and my nines can get active
I was born fresh to Death, fetch the casket

[Verse 2: GameboyJones]
Ten toes down, but couldn't go toe to toe with me
Oh, really thought he gon' slide? I told him no, Diddy
Four fifty's keep it to twenty, I ain't gon' show pity
Told me that he's ready to die, I said that's no Biggie
Glock an introvert 'cause it's not gon' jam
I'll pop your mans, oh yeah, think it's macho man
I'm savage, give me more shells than a taco stand
You 'bout to meet Death, homie, and he's not your friend
Walking around, I'm looking like Death
Fucking with the Kid you catching heat, and I ain't swiped left
On that type shit, if you haven't lost your life yet
I'ma pop your Pinky, hit your Brain where your eyes met, bap-bap-bap!
I am just a different caliber
When I get the stick and wave it 'round like I'm Excalibur
I can feel the shivers when a Shinigami step in the place
You think you walking out alive? Then look me dead in the face, uh

[Chorus: GameboyJones]
Who's the man, who's the man on the block-block-block?
Haters mad, haters mad, taking shot-shot-shots
What they saying? What they saying? They all talk-talk-talk
Walk 'em down, walk 'em down with the blah-blah-blah
Yeah, 'cause you know I ain't lacking
Twin blowers on my side, they get ratchet
Dress to the nines, and my nines can get active
I was born fresh to Death, fetch the casket