No life...(Are You Awake...?)

Dammit, I said no life!

[Verse 1]

Straight, outta, upper-middle class white neighborhood

Ain’t finna bang in this kinda hood

People cross the Zates claiming, oh, what I mighta did

Lighter end my prerogative, maiming whatever face that so daunted him

Selling shit to some crazy chick from internet

Describe as girlfriend, technically ain’t win her yet

Sure

Like it ain’t written in the heavens

Bit my sixes and sevens, bitch, I get what I want

Why these other girls front? Sure, like you ain’t shalmoota

And I ain’t some basket-case that hears that bass and goes Ruger

That establishment just wish you dead, and I’m just racing ‘em to ya

Blast’em like laxatives, my words ripping right through

Think FFAK is joke, M.E.F. ain’t a set?

Then go head and benzo your eight O proof, and be less fucking dead

I’m on a hustle to amaze, oh you think that’s debatable?

Well, we like to call that rustle in the shadows, “un-fucking-mistakable,”

[Chorus]

Ya’all bitches ain’t grind

Yo, you ain’t on a grind

Ya’all soul ain’t divine

No…you on some bullshit, though

No, ya’all, bitches ain’t grind

Yo, you ain’t of this motherfucking design

I’m tired of pacing around for these stars to align

But you wait, like, you on some bullshit

[Verse 2]

A noose the only exit from my tool shed

Never learned how to cool it, truest when I do shit

Gotta new vest, detonate, enemies evaporate, I live miraculously

Ain’t no rations on this plate, baby

Put my potential in the fire, now it’s hatching for me

Can’t poke my way all way to trophy, let’s see what slashing achieve

Code 8-0-8 from those below who don’t believe you need take action for peace

Wipe ‘way the data, Shout Triple-Acting, but stains on soul, manifesting...

[Verse 3]

Straight, outta, yuppie-bracket-washed district

Bumping Vinnie, Curry, Earl, Haze’s night ballads in when the broad day lit

I’m on some too-damn-great shit

So don’t even bother with dog, but beware humiliation

I’ll turn your sneering faces to sobs, maybe lumpy applesauce

I’ll fucking fuck up your job, but won’t fix these runts on a cross

Nullity watching you dab, bitch, you’ll disappear, as if magic

Felony’s worth, bars and cabbage, revere the bars that went savage

[Outro Chorus]

Sincerely from a sickness that facilitates lasting, right?

You, know you ain’t on a grind

Ya’all, soul ain’t divine

No…you on some bullshit, though

No, ya’all, bitches ain’t grind

Yo, you ain’t getting no motherfucking replies

I’m sick of sticking to the wishes of these pigs in the grime

They tryin’ pork-mug, they stuntin’ bullshit

They tryin’ ca-joles, they tryin’ fool shit

Think they’ll make home, I’m callin’ bullshit

They think they meso, while going way slow

Priorities flipped, when pass through G.I.K.’s estate though

Graves nodded in the late polls