Letter B4 da Chair

Aye bruh, we finna, we finna, we burning in this chair right now
This sound like that motherfucking death row shit
This sound like right when you finna hit the chair
Ah, let us out
Don’t play here, no it’s not a game bitch
This BitchMob killer with a motherfucking mad bitch
Chopper on the side with the 8 package that for the action
I got eyes: two on my neck and two in the front
I watch you pussies, watch the streets, then I smoke a blunt
Feel this real shit, I cosign myself because I live by the G-code
Turn to the BasedWorld, ready for the new chapter
This like Twisted Metal, we ride around with the auto choppers
Playing with the BitchMob, bitch you better call the doctor
Seeing things long range, chop with the long aim
Hit him 'cross the field like I was sitting at a ball game
You all fakes thugs, that’s where they all came
I was in tough positions, I had to get my ass out
Treat life like ATM, I got to get my cash out
Fuck the fast route
I pull — don’t die with your pant’s down
You bitch, pull your pants up
Not nigga, keep them fucking down
The chopper hit him once, man he had no protection
Matter of fact, keep it real man, cause I’m so respected
I don’t know about you, but I keep going section
Fuck your jewelry, man my life is a necklace
That was my letter before I take the chair
Letter before the chair