Drug dealers (what, what)
Hustlers
Psychological, Necro
Street Villains, Volume 1
Welcome to my world where DT's eat feces
Hookers with mustaches will suck your cock for a free piece
If you're broke, you're deceased, you're jerked
So you got to lurk through the streets
Do some of the devil's work, then murk
It feels good son, it's great to scheme
It's all dirty money so wash your hands after you calculate the cream
Beat me if you like smoke
You wanna fight loc?
You walkin' a tight rope, you'll get cut like coke
Someone's loss is someone's win
Wealth consumption, opposite health reduction, self destruction
Brain cell abduction, vein corruption
Cocaine production, your brain gets sucked in
Keep the stash tucked in the balls at all times
And when pigs ask you about me yo you better catch Alzheimer's
Which means never talk to cops
So these fiends can continue to snort the crops
But yo we gotta make cream so yo we water crops
Down with vitamins and all sorts of slop
But don't tell nobody
Ripper you got a fetish for paralyzing your dome often
When you ain't got enough cream to pay for your own coffin
You got a problem no one can solve
So sniff and let the snow dissolve
Life is a cypher, I let the flow evolve
Drug dealing, for money
We do deals, illegal shit
Drug dealing, weighing shit up on a scale
For crack addicts, rippers, and potheads
Making dough is the intent for sick men
That stash crack and big pens and big gems
Are you a victim?
Today's deal: Sell some blow, eat a gourmet meal, and stay real
Nobody'll be able to find your bones
My business feeds your business, so mind your own
Sellin' stuff to skeezers
Before I saw Jeez from making beats
I sold weed to creeps
How 'bout that girl Annette, from Brooklyn?
She had pimples on her ass and mad problems
I sold her grass (dirty)
They all got ripped off, even the hard rocks
That swear they were trife but never saw a scale in their life
Tellin' this kid about grams and how much
And quality and my count sucks
But you smoked every ounce up
Perpetrating like you're a dealer, but you're an addict
Smoking every sack before you made your money back
I was seventeen selling green weed
To grown men who fiend to get dirt inside their spleen
How about the fifty-year-old twats
That light up by smokin' pot but still copped
As long as I delivered it hops
