Snatching Souls

808, cut sound Ooh, phooey Marvel, you a deadbeat DJ Flair, make the money flare I be in the trenches, we be snatchin' souls I got killers who came home and fucked up parole Got some nasty ass bitches dancin' on a pole Got some classy ass bitches who achieving goals Get out of line with the clique, we gon' wipe your nose I call my plug Ludacris because he throwin' bows F*ck snitches, we leave them in ditches if he ever told If it ain't McLaren, bitch, I'm tryna cop a Rolls Royce Fed, slide, this one outta here I'm still talkin' bout my past life You gotta do what you gotta do to get your bag right Before that mouth popped off, my auntie had that crack pipe Gettin' a hundred racks a week, I made ten on a bad night Got a call, said an op DOA Heard he got clapped twice Went to the ground smokin' on a grandma's eye, yeah Ain't that shite I ain't payin' attention I'm in Beijing watchin' some crabs fight Did a show, packed it up on my way home This my last flight She just got it done, so I complimented on her ass nice I can get in places you can't get in, but a badge might I took off like a Sprinter I'm like the 2001 Jigga Only boss in the building Watch me just say, it can cost you millions It's an awesome feeling When you stack that rap money to the ceiling Hope you don't try to rob this villain I'ma take the chainsaw, I'ma kill him This ain't no lie, a gangster in a bow tie Instagram go live, scorin' on the gold line I don't rent it dawg, I own mine Got 200 on chime Gotta say no to them broke guys 007 got a gold nine It's a 101, it's a Russian nine Can't take it back If it's done, it's done Left the Gucci store, spent the honey bun We got the best of best When it come to us, run it up in the winter, f*ck the summer up I be in the trenches We be snatchin' souls I got killers who came home and fucked up parole Got some nasty ass bitches dancin' on a pole Got some classy ass bitches who achievin' goals Get out of line with the clique We gon' wipe your nose I call my plug Ludacris because he throwin' bows F*ck snitches, we leavin' them in dentures if he ever told Philly McLaren bitch, I'm tryna cop a rose My spot jumpin' like double dust Thousand eight grams on the scale, we gon' cut it up Givin' y'all that fittin' off flow Got a M16 and a trench coat We gettin' bred like French toast You know I'm doin' this shit off impulse Yeah, you on your way to a M, you gettin' close Buzz down Carter like a pimpo Say you better than me, that's an insult Put us both on the track like the fan salt I'm married to the gang, no in-laws But the front like Hannibal's Poetic justice, I'm on Danneron When the cops boop, we be gettin' lost She be suckin' with lip gloss on Court dates just got postponed Call my shooter Carl Malone I changed plans, you ain't call my phone Used to have a heart, now it's gone It's cold as ice cream cone Guns no license for Where they got them indictments from I'm so clean But I live by that Viking code Know what I mean Sippin' lean, liftin' up Lambo doors She a Charlie Angel, but she scheming with the devil I just buried so much money, I need two shovels My eyes low on the medical Can't pull my strings, I'm not no puppet I'm not no fuckin' cello Stop askin' me what the trenches is It's a fuckin' ghetto That choppa make you flip like you tryin' to win a medal Free my dawgs out the kennel I got this effin' in a rental Gucci bag stuffed with cash for any incidentals I be in the trenches We be snatchin' souls I got killers who came home and fucked up parole Got some nasty ass bitches dancin' on a pole Got some classy ass bitches who achieving goals Get out of line with the clique We gon' wipe your nose I call my plug Ludacris because he throwin' bows F*ck snitches, we leavin' them in ditches if he ever told If it ain't McLaren, bitch, I'm tryin' to cop a Rolls