Fuel

Smoking trees, I'm ridin' 'round Come to my side of town Lately, it's been goin', goin', goin', goin', goin' down (look, uh, look) All of my niggas gon' ride with it In the pocket, the rocket like Kellen Mond Mama told me the power was in the tongue But it probably ain't powerful as a gun All of you little cowards get devoured, I'm givin' out flowers to anyone I ain't been out the house in a minute 'cause I ain't wit' it if the money is miniature I've been mindin' my business, I'm business-minded I've been spendin' some time with the minister 'Cause them niggas spinnin' shit and still sinnin' in the City of God and it's sinister Try to pray and repent in a synagogue or a mosque, a temple, a church Them brown skin's sentiment niggas hurtin' And murder's a common courtesy, for certainly R.I.P. be on the shirt, search, lurk, murk, squirt, dirt, first (forty-eight) My nigga doin' four plus eight without a court date Talked the other day, he say he doin' okay He good, he gainin' weight then got a sharp shank He made, he say they played, they gotta partake Homie got a heart full of hate and a face full of war paint Eyes all red, full of rage and it's hard to escape from a dark place East side niggas from the A, niggas all ages Tryna sell a pound of the dog cage All the OGs 'round town was our age Danger, sex, and drugs, X and R-rated Danger, sex, and drugs, shit be outrageous But don't get this shit fucked up, my boy You lucked up once then ya doubled up I dribble and pass it to the cup and triple-double it Get to the basket, get the cash and cuddle up Cover up, bundle up, batter up (batter up) Um, talk a lot of smack and I could back it up Shawty wanna shag, wanna shack it up I can put a pussy on a platter like a platypus Nappy head, nigga, hair natted up I said, "Barbara," a nigga tatted up I won't argue, nigga mad as fuck 'Cause they ain't compatible, I'm finna catapult But niggas know it's goin' down, down, down, down, dow-dow-dow-dow- If I run out of fuel, I won't What the fuck y'all gon' do if I don't Run out of fuel? Down, down, down, down, dow-dow-dow-dow- (run out of fuel) That scares the fuck out of you For a couple decades (brrt) Been lettin' this TEC spray (brrt) From that day that I met Dre (brrt) So you liable to catch strays (brrt) From the second you press play (what?) I suggest they (what?) Do not test like an essay (why?) 'Cause like where my homies out West stay (yeah) We can just say (what?) I'm like a R-A-P-E-R (yeah) Got so many S-As (S-As), S-As (huh) Wait, he didn't just spell the word, "Rapper" and leave out a P, did he? (Yep) R.I.P., rest in peace, Biggie And Pac, both of y'all should be living (yep) But I ain't tryna beef with him (nope) 'Cause he might put a hit on me like , "Keefe D, get him" And that's the only way you're gonna be killing me (nah) Ain't gonna be on no beat, silly (yeah) I beat the beat silly, on the grind like teeth gritting Call me "obesity" (why?) You think it's over? Wait, it's just beginning Diss me and it ain't gonna be pretty (nah) Used to be yea tall then I grew a little each day 'til I became God Like James Todd, now your arms are too short to BK brawl Indeed, they small like DJ Paul (woo) My new Benz better than your truck by far Bitch, suck my balls You either smoke crack or you're playin' stickball in the street 'Cause you must be on base if you're thinkin' you can touch my car (yeah) But if the whole world was out to get you (what?) It'd turn you to a powder keg too Kyle Rittenhouse, spittin' rounds, the TEC shoots (look out, like, "Brrt") And that ain't no sound effect (woo) Neither was that, SIG Sauer lets loose I don't condone gun violence at schools (nah) But I can't get these voices out my head (hey, Marshall, kill, kill, kill) They're putting words in my mouth like alphabet soup Got the most content on the continent And constant compliments give me confidence (I'm a) A cross of common sense and incompetence (uh) I'm cognizant that conflict's a consequence Of accomplishments accomplished through competition I've conquered and conked 'em into unconsciousness Though conscious, I conjure this King Kong and just Call me "Kamikaze," I'm concoctin' this (woo, my bad) But nobody's sixteen's are touching These motherfuckin' index fingers fuckin' the nina Clutchin' the nine millimeter, tuckin' the heat Got the toaster like an English muffin No, I mean, "toast to" like you drink to somethin' But it's in a holster, I proceed to bust and Fuck around and get popped like Halyna Hutchins Like I'm Alec Baldwin, what I mean is buckin' you down Coup de grâce then, right between the fuckin' eyes Shoot 'em all in if you think you're fuckin' with me You're gonna suffer the fuckin' repercussions The reaper's comin', a heathen, I'm Ethan Crumbley I keep replenishing fuel while the beat I'm punishin' If I run out of fuel, I won't What the fuck y'all gon' do if I don't Run out of fuel? Down, down, down, down, dow-dow-dow-dow- (run out of fuel) That scares the fuck out of you