The winds of the west side heard of me
Roll clean, smoke so dirtily
Flow pristine, on the beat I’m in surgery
Dog I’m a boss, you can’t cut me off, gotta murder me
Fuck what you heard of me, probably true
I belong in a zoo
Green bud in the blunt, gold NUG in the booth
Make a bitch jump off like she locked on the roof
On 2, I could moon walk on the moon
Popular dude, got the Pac attitude
Got the pussy so wet that the cock gotta prune
Man dem a swoon, licking the spoon that I fed ‘em
Lady Venom on my blocka, shotta
Big broads sing the opera
When I switch the octave, 8 blunt, octa
on some… I can’t even see your roster
Off them, disregarding that
So fuck hands, show me where your army at
Show cardiac unitl my heart attack
To Mars and back, any hoe I garden that
Yo I throw her on my plate and probably garnish that
So fuck a fake baller, where my goners at?
Where my haters? Where my partners at?
This is what I brought - so who want part of that?
Holler back, you wanna see my arm at bat
I’m armed for that, machete and a zombie mask
I body that, body bag, body cast sawed in half
Feel me from your jaw to calf
You can’t recant me, shooting on my Oakland Annie
Annie Oakley, Annie Instagram an O-Z
Annie Any Fresher And I’d Still Be Soapy
Annie Get Your Gunners…and a fucking rosary
