Die With Regret

(Streo)

Ah
Talkin' 'bout Glokk, you ain't talkin' 'bout nothin', huh
Huh

Live and play 'bout it, gon' die by the gun
And I trap out the telly and I done made me a ton
And it's long packs on me, but she grab on the john
I just got out of prison, she wanna hang with a con
And it's steak on my plate, I go filet mignon
Yeah, I'm Black, but go kamikaze, that's the bomb
Just got back to the fitted, lil' demon my arm
Yeah, it's time to suit up, but ain't talkin' 'bout no prom
I put on the Marni, this Glock, this bitch hang out my joggers
Do you got a problem? I popped out, black Balenciaga
Yeah, I got them shooters, they thought about robbin'
Flame in my car, got fire in my locker
You get you some rank, you gon' be the next Shabba
You plead to a copper, but I get subscriptions from doctors
All over the world, but I stop in the projects

You tender as fuck, you hold bitches for hostage, I'm pickin' they pockets
They stealin' they flows, but I'm not finna copy
I'm nauseous, I'm tryna knock 'em out just like Rocky
They flodgin', them niggas don't got nothin' from Rykers
I'm pacin', but I know he got shot, Obi Toppin
It was family and everything, you sorry 'bout them racks
It was stole, how the fuck this bitch came with hydraulics?

Huh, you know what I'm sayin'?
Band Gang, Band Gang

Don't trust him, you know this one-forty-one BPM
GF, I'm not finna slide without evil twin
Chocolate bitch, this the thick ho with that melanin
Thotted, don't cap, ho, I knew you weren't celibate
Teachin' them boys how to score like Bill Belichick
Them ain't no racks for real, your pictures edited
Throw back the pill, now my mind playin' tricks
Fuck her, then get the lil' bitch, have a quick
Bust on her face and it got on her lip
My life a movie, but I don't write down no scripts
We the wave, these hoes keep fuckin' with the shrimps
Get you out the outfit, then call you Mike Pence
Niggas know dada don't take disrespect
Come for your neck, nigga, play with your bitch
I'm in the lab, but I'm playin' with the Tekken
Your diamonds so fake, nigga, don't let 'em get wet
I'm spazzin' out, nigga, like I got Tourette's
And I'm battin' shit out the park just like the Mets
You live in my shadow, now die with regrets
And I'll throw this shit down, don't care who bang the set
I'm standin' on money, go beef on the 'net
To describe my face, you the one pointed out the sketch
It go where I go, I got leash on the pet
I'm Baby Life Spaz, I don't do nothin' but finesse
Trackhawk fast, but ain't nothin' like the jet
I die alone, nigga, I put the tat on my chest
Okay, you still hang with them niggas out West
We eyin' that drill, we can't wait for the flex
We bet on the shooters, you know this a bet
We aim for the top, who gon' take off the vest?

Live and play 'bout it, gon' die by the gun
And I trap out the telly and I done made me a ton
And it's long packs on me, but she grab on the john
I just got out of prison, she wanna hang with a con
And it's steak on my plate, I go filet mignon
Yeah, I'm Black, but go kamikaze, that's the bomb
Just got back to the fitted, lil' demon my arm
Yeah, it's time to suit up, but ain't talkin' 'bout no prom
I put on the Marni, this Glock, this bitch hang out my joggers
Do you got a problem? I popped out, black Balenciaga
Yeah, I got them shooters, they thought about robbin'
Flame in my car, got fire in my locker
You get you some rank, you gon' be the next Shabba
You plead to a copper, but I get subscriptions from doctors
All over the world, but I stop in the projects