R E D O T, P T. I

Ain't a bitch I can't f*ck Bitch I came up off crime, I never kept that thang tucked But I had murder on my mind, tryna see yo brain bust Look we got time, but I'll keep it short, and put you on that same bus Y'all niggas flamed up, gettin high, rolling off the same Dutch Remember shooting shots at Bri and she said, step yo game up Then two months later, ain't heard back from you, how you change up? You say you gave me all your heart, and broke that shit, that ain't love I got a homie I ain't spoke to since like last summer Lost connection, and we blame that shit on bad numbers He told me, rap gon bring you loyalty and mad commas But all I'm seeing is this pain mix with bad karma Gave em the real me, and I can't take that back from em They tryna rob me, glad I never took that bag from em Now all my niggas out here eating, like the Last Supper But I know shit that's been haunting me from my past, momma I know a bitch from MIA that used to work with Trina Went MIA, know I ain't really been to church this season Know I could probably murk a nigga, without no perfect reason But I rather work with K Dot, rather work with Reason Ten on my neck, bout a dub on my teeth 12 round the set, scream f*ck the police Made it off the block, off the slums, off the streets How you runnin shit, but you run when it's heat? How you wife that hoe, when she run with the team? How you leave a mess, spilling blood on the leaves? How you spazzing on em, with no drum on the beat? I hope you know what come with that gun on yo seat Red dot, should've had yo thumb on the green