Make Em Mad

Ayy, Smoke Fusion, you did it again

(Yeah)
I had fifty on my wrist (Yeah)
We been sippin' on the Tris (Woah)
Can't nobody tell me shit (No)
I been gettin' to my bag
The opps goin' out sad
I'll show you how to make 'em mad
We just keep gettin' to the racks

Hm, everybody wanna know (Know)
Everybody wanna see (See)
Everybody ain't cut for this shit between you and me (No)
You don't know what it feels like
Knowin your friend died in the street (No)
You don't know what it feels like to not know when you'll be free (No)
The plug showed me how to deal right when he gave me a whole key (Ay)
The fish scale lookin' real nice so I gotta keep it on me
I get the money and double it (Double it)
I get the money and triple it (Triple it)
We burnin' rubber, no Michelin
I drop a lil' bag at Tiffany's
We huff and we puff on the gas all day
If I'm lyin', I'm scratchin' my chinny-chin
And no, I'm not any man, boy, I know many men
That will come shoot at your fitted, man (Yeah)

I had fifty on my wrist (Yeah)
We been sippin' on the Tris (Woah)
Can't nobody tell me shit (No)
I been gettin' to my bag
The opps goin' out sad
I'll show you how to make 'em mad
We just keep gettin' to the racks

Huh, Huh, Huh, Huh
Fitted the snap-back
I skate on the beat with these half-cabs
Fuck (Very good adlib)
Shawty trap blues on her Snapchat
I asked for your name, we already fucked
I think we way past that
I hit from the back and her back snap
Okay, that's cap rap
My shirt from the '90s, it's matte black
My last chick was fine and she half Black
I know they mad as shit
Plottin' on me so I had to switch
No more extendin' the hand and shit
Now I just talk my talk when I'm done zippin' it
I came from the mud, not Nicholas
I grew up, we settled our differences
We all hurt someone, we all wish we was innocent
If you don't, you a narcissist
We all want to escape, cash out on regardin' shit
Night I close my eyes, haunted by memories of carcasses
We all gon' die, I promise you are not the shit
Life's better off alone, makin' I get lost in it

(Yeah)
I had fifty on my wrist (Yeah)
We been sippin' on the Tris (Woah)
Can't nobody tell me shit (No)
I been gettin' to my bag
The opps goin' out sad
I'll show you how to make 'em mad
We just keep gettin' to the racks

This song bangs harder than three pots
A wooden spoon, and a deaf kid with ADD