Son Shot Down ft. Mister Fitzwell Lyrics

I'm an older head, hand, drive

Cause her son had been shot down in the street and died

I pray the lord gives me the words

This is real hip-hop, why you shit for the birds

Goofy, you're trash, you get kicked to the curb

Got a Louis belt on with a ridiculous perm

Boogie man is just ball heavy, there aren't many

Percocets got you talking slur, you're not ready

I change the game when I shoot, so call me Steph Curry

I loaded up the banana clip, you best hurry

Another dead man that thought he could rap

Should've stuck with crypto instead of the trap

This how this shit go when I get on the track

Screaming bloody murder with my foot on your neck

I'm an older head, hand, drive

Cause her son had been shot down in the street and died

Yo, something inside me told me to let off

Aim at these frauds and blow they head off

Like clickbait, it's a total mistake

I can't trust no jakes, I can't trust any fakes

I'm a real nigga, true artist, real lyrics, true writer

Google the catalog so you can decipher

If hip-hop is dead, I'm the only survivor

She can't be dead, cause my baby inside her

Making Saturday nights real live like Rob Schneider

Boogeyman's an example of true infamy

Physically, lyrically, I mean everything

Middle finger to those that got it in for me

I'm an older head, hand, drive

Cause her son had been shot down in the street and died

From a stray

I'm an older head, hand, drive