Summer Nights

What that good word is?
Chemist,
It’s on (1−7-9) yeah
Lets get it
Better have my money by Monday, been a month of Sundays
Humpty dumpty fell off, took off of me and he fled the country
The heads of customs used to tell me «Make it extra chunky»
Fed the puppies off the same food used to to junkies
Kept it funky, gritting with the grinders, I was pitching sliders
Never once did we hit for hire, it was fundamental
From the dribble, cut-throat Kuniva, learned that from my youngin from
Remember when he hit the drive and spun the rental
This shit ain’t even gotta be on you 'cause once it’s in you
'fore you know it, it won’t be long 'before they unbefriend you
Burned my first mixtape, started with a hundred spindle
Heard he claiming brick mob but he not even from the
Catching vibes from the venue, crept inside from the window
Burnt the body up, they had to recognize him from his dental
My gun’ll drench you, instead I rather have youngin hit you
'fore you kill them niggas dead, tell them guys I’m the one who sent you
Blocks, slid through with that one utensil
Tell me what you gon' do when they come and get you
Keep it a hundred with you, these niggas unofficial
Don’t want no smoke with us so don’t let it become an issue
From trapping in we fell in love with pistols
Catch you lacking without your, you should’ve brung it with you
Kidnap a nigga kids, leave a nigga brother crippled
For a couple scribbles get you painted like a color pencil
Now give the drummer some, trying to count up a honey bun
Jugging off of the smartphone, sent his ass on a dummy run
from the slums when they cough up a lung
Hundred clips, hundred drums
Teslas with the cummerbunds
Son of a gun on Sunderland, it was one and done
Ain’t nothing new under the sun except me jumping bun
In the H with Uncle Bun, sipping H with Uncle Chad
King of diamonds Mondays, ace of spades running up a tab
Falling out the bar drunk, the valet pulling up the Jag
Benz’s and Rovers back to back, now get
Pour the drink up in the plumb, my Draco hold a hun'
we feed the block like it’s Ramadan
My ambiance is of the spirit of
Walking out the Rite Aid with more pints than Father Johns
Pull the Wraith up on the lawn, we play with dope and guns
So don’t make me overdo it 'cause shit get overdone