Call Log

Too many shooters in my call log

Way too many for me just to call off

Too many shooters in my call log

Way too many for me just to call off

Too many hitters

War's all they want

Murder's all they know, ain't no negotiating nothin'

You all know a **** gonna take it back in blood

By the grace of God you gon' make it back it in one

Hit 'em, send a message right between his set of lungs

I told his stupid ass my appetite and now you're lunch

You know how it go, the .44 never spell so

Beefing with a street ****, leave 'em on the road

Don't play no fucking games, already know my pedigree

Graduated to a shooter from a petty thief

Things ringing, sounding like them shits'll never cease

Meet me where 211-187 meet

Picked you up for questioning and the answer always wasn't me

Tell 'em that it was, pick a box and a wreath

Too many shooters in my call log

Way too many for me just to call off

Too many shooters in my call log

Way too many for me just to call off

Hope you know your life worth a ten cent slug

**** getting drugged over ten dollar drugs

Pesticide and **** getting wide with the bugs

Now I'm riding, getting high, hiding from the fuzz

Selling rock till I catch a kingpin charge

Looking at twenty flat, when the mac discharge

Whole squad team, carbine fifteen, no ass 'cause it's hard to explain

These things, man, there's so much going on behind the scenes

Triple homicides in front of kids and triple beams

Pistol in my pocket busting, ripping through the seams

All's you hear through the screams

White chalk lying on you seeing through the leaves

Cocaine in my blunt, invading on my weed

Too many shooters in my call log

Way too many for me just to call off

Too many shooters in my call log

Way too many for me just to call off