Letras:
Chill Rob G Dope Rhymes

hit the ceiling They sing for me, we'll bring you g's But injuries in the industry, could come instantly I see the way they make a g a day, but what a

not a chill pill, freak do what you will, Heart ticking like a time bomb, eating spicy prauns Man it's the god of con, check it baby write a rhyme Better

somethin' Hit y'all for frontin' Bitch cat mark from the blocks where i be at Juvenile'll get slapped Bet u understand that B.G., I got you Dope needle