7th Song

From junior year, jumped straight to college, I ain't fuck with 12

We was outside making magic, but them sticks wasn't casting spells

I don't trust them many, niggas snitchin', they be quick to tell

He a rat, it's only right, I leave him underground with shells

Look, they know I'm so sick, but they don't ever wish me well

I got a arm all out the window, like I'm bout to make a sale

I don't need a thirty, I'm precise, ain't tryna leave a trail

He can keep it funky when he gone, his body left a smell

This shit straight drop, I ain't worried bout them impurities

All my niggas be lettin' shit go, yeah, they mature to me