Point 8 With The Bag

Kamikaze Friday night my tongue is white i think I'm rolling
My paradise not lost that shit was stolen
Bitch don't ask me where I'm going
I'm going in

All the shit i been thru
Better put me in that new bible
Heaven's closed but you know
Magdalena's legs are open
I'm going in

And I'm not asking for forgiveness this is my city
I'm moving peanut butter smooth cos it's mad gritty
Mix the pleasure with the business
Make your passion your profession
Leave the opposition trippin when I'm dripping
I'm a shadow when the sun is low
Peaking and won't plateau

Quintessential flawless I'm flossin regardless
Is that the abyss? aw shit that's me, bitch
I'm going in I'm going in I'm going in
Idle eyes idolize real lies that sound true
God's plans & devil hands serve the work that you do
I'm going in
Sometimes it's point 8 with the bag
Call the cops bitch I don't really care
My vision blurry and I'm eyeballing grams
I'm in the field, and I don't carry scales

Lost angels in her glory is the story an open wound
Don't pray to the east, keep dreaming of peace
Don't sign a new lease, don't expect a mecca
Without some smoking wreckage on the temple mount
The future is distant and insistent on a sacrifice
Resistant to prediction
I'm addicted to these sins of omission

Nightclub feels like cage
Pop them pills spin the wheel
Get fenced in hop the gate
Watch the last century fade