Rock N Roll Is Dead

Big Daddy Hoffa coming to you here with a kimber
T max 2.45, 1911
This baby oughta be nice right there
Cocked locked and ready to rock!
Gone with the sauce
Got the.45 tucked in the bag
Hit 'em with the hawk
Naw fuck it dawg
Whip 'em with the strap
I’ve been on the fucking road
I just ended rock n roll
We’ve been running up the score
Turnt your house into a home
Ugh
I don’t fucking roam
All I do is count the cash
Bitch I’m coming in your house
Let’s get freaky with the strap
We don’t fuck with alt right
Y’all ain’t never been a threat
If y’all come to Baltimore we gon' stick 'em for their racks
We gon' beat them crackers dead
We gon' fuck up on they wife
Take em for a ride
More hits
More life
Tight grip on the chopper
That kickback light
Put hands on a blogger
Make 'em beg for his life
Gone with the sauce
Got the.45 tucked in the bag
Hit 'em with the hawk
Naw fuck it dawg
Whip 'em with the strap
I’ve been on the fucking road
I just ended rock n roll
We’ve been running up the score, man
I say that pussy’s off the richter
No shit, uh
I fuck that bitch
I fuck your baby sitter
I hit her
I took her to a show, man what’s the issue
I split her
This groovy nigga bangin' on your sister
No kicker
I can’t read
How many cars does it take
To make this shit an easy race
How many cars does it take
To make this fucking pain go away
Truth!