Caskets - Intellectual

[Intro]

Wavy Tre the shooter, your bitch favorite producer

Aye stupid asking bout me, been Cripping since like a snotty nose

Always been a C ain't no B’s, ain't make no honor rolls

Five hundred for your fit, I spent five hundred just for all my toes

Niggas talking wet, on the set, a body on the pole

If your bitch look then she took, bitch I'm feeling handsome

I got a pole up in this party bitch I don’t do the dancing

Aye bitch we thug it for real, he thuggin' for the cameras

Aye a nigga feeling like he ball, I turn him into Casper

Bitch I'm locked in with real locs, you just locked up

You is not no P, you got that lil hoe just knocked up

A hundred in the choppa and it's gon' light your whole block up

Caressin' a bitch and she gon' give your whole drop up

Aye, Roy passing them bullets, I call him Drew Brees

Draco got that kickback, I'm calling that bitch Bruce Lee

I treat the bitch like Pluto, she thinking that I’m a Goofy

Hella clips up in this chamber, fuck around and shoot a movie

Aye bitch, can of paint, we tryna spray shit

Niggas tryna kill me, oh well, we on that same shit

Hella crips with me, ride around on that gang shit

I’m in a foreign thang, tinted windows when I lane switch

I'm in a spaceship, hit your whip up it got your face hit

Big dick inside this pistol lil nigga, but ain’t no gay shit

Please don't say shit when you sit in that interrogation

Always been up in these streets like I'm stuck up in the pavement

Feel like an artist, the way this pistol loves to paint shit

Feel like the Matrix, niggas missing they ain't even scrape shit

You on that lame shit, bullets wet you up on that rain shit

We do a skit, then switch whips, that GTA shit

Aye hop in the stu and I get payed for it

Niggas disrespecting your gang, still ain’t get sprayed for it

My bro up in that jam fighting ten, keep your head up

Disrespecting our land, then you damned, we wet your checks up

Get your checks up, at Saks Fifth fucking a check up

Bro got that white girl, lil nigga he selling Kesha

You got me messed up, you really thinking that you next up

Bullets to his body now his tea covered in ketchup

Aye I can't trust niggas 'cause they too fake

Fully do the kicking, and I call that bitch Liu Kang

You chasing a bag, bitch I'm chasing me a suitcase

This forty make your heart beat off like it's Blueface

Nigga