By Waka Flocka Flame and Sylvia Plath

put together by joshua elul.

I go hard in the muthafuckin' paint nigga You do not do, you do not do Any more, black shoe Front yard broad day with the SK For thirty years, poor and white, Barely daring to breathe or Achoo. I won't die for this shit or what the fuck I say Daddy, I have had to kill you. I hang in the Dale with them hit squad killers In the German tongue, in the Polish town In the trap with some killers and some hood niggas But the name of the town is common. My Polack friend Says there are a dozen or two So I never could tell where you Put your foot, your root, Where you at? Where your trap? You ain't hood, nigga I have always been scared of you, I never could talk to you. The tongue stuck in my jaw. With your Luftwaffe, your gobbledygoo When my little brother died I said fuck school I was ten when they buried you. I picked the burner up and I got some marijuana At twenty I tried to die But they pulled me out of the sack, And they stuck me together with glue. And then I knew what to do. I made a model of you Keep this shit 300, The boot in the face, the brute Brute heart of a brute like you put that shit on my hood So black no sky could squeak through. Crips fuckin' with me, Gs and the Vice Lords And your Aryan eye, bright blue. Panzer-man, panzer-man, O You-A man in black with a Meinkampf look Ridin' real slow bendin' corners, my nigga Nigga with a attitude like Eaze and Cube Every woman adores a Fascist, Glock 9 to SK if you want to beef Hope you got your killers with ya, hope you got your niggas with ya Hope your goons ridin' with ya, they gon' fuckin' miss you, nigga If I've killed one man, I've killed two-The vampire who said he was you Shorty point blank range I put your ass to sleep They are dancing and stamping on you. They always knew it was you. Broad day in the air like this shit is legal Daddy, daddy, you bastard, I'm through.