Blanka Buds

It’s like Apex the rapstar
Wise like Rasta
Swerving, might flank ya
Burnin' on Blanka
Dead like
Please, i might thank ya
Pull up in a tank
That boy just a wanker
It’s the lord of the undone
About in 5 year i’ll be lord of the slum
A G' statin' of the doe smoke
That’s an old folklore, but they know he spoke raw
From the highest to the sky
To the deaths of the core
I don’t eat anymore
Unless money, i don’t speak anymore
Every song sound the same, like i’ve been here before
But what (does) it mean anymore?!
Every death a celebration, when i see Henny pour
Dark days when you see Benny draw
Know it’s rough, when you don’t see him anymore
Beat-making nigga,
Over dro, whe he run out
Cuz growing up i was on the block playing runners and knock down ginger
Now it’s technology and niggers on tinder
If you need milk, don’t cow it
If you need ounces, don’t it
Still work prolific, force of an english,
It’s like Apex the rapstar
Wise like Rasta
Swerving, might flank ya
Burnin' on Blanka
Dead like
Please, i might thank ya
Pull up in a tank
That boy just a wanker