Two Step

I always knew life could be super short

Ever since they busted out the super sport

Brevity, levity, bitter I could never be

Young for a nigga born in the late seventies

Heavenly, my wife cause she loves me in spite

Of all the crazy shit I be saying when we fight

Shout a kite to my nigga locked up, now Reece home

Making music for the kids, bitch we grown

Put your phone down, look me in the eye

Or you can talk that shit to another guy

I swear to God I would kick you in the button fly

And jump up and down on your skull 'til you fucking die

Y'all probably want to dance so ignore me

That club life ain't ever been for me

You basic bitches just bore me

If I got to buy you a drink you can't afford me

Gun shots on a good day

No ski masks, that's the hood way

Little kids wishing that they could play

Looking for a hook or something Jay-Z would say

I got two shots left in my.22 two step

Two shots left in my.22 two step

Two shots left in my.22 two step

Two shots left in my.22 two step

Deuce-deuce in my tennis shoe

Hood nigga brought a burner to the interview

Might catch a beef on the bus home

Tell them gang-bang bullies get the fuck gone

In my zone with a brand new playlist

Walked right past my ex, didn't say shit

Then I changed my mind like, "Ayye bitch!"

"Tell your new boyfriend he can't fake this!"

Spent my last check on some new kicks

The rest at the movies on my new chick

I got fired on some bullshit

Snitch, fuck-boy that I never should've fooled with

And I ain't ever wrote a résumé

But I had my cousin make me one yesterday

I need more hours and some better pay

Back when I was hustling that was something I would never say

Ten toes down nineteen seventy-nine

Southern California dummy repping heavy with mine

These motherfucking actors are not odd to a factor

Killer Reece is a cold black bastard

No master, no father, I raise me crazy

A nigga clean it up, when I had a couple babies

Well maybe, just maybe, you get the '08 me

Fresh out the county feeling crazy

No lizard, eight months feeling turnt, don't play me

I used to be a mess my nigga

Only thing could kill me was stress my nigga

Had to give that shit a rest my nigga

I just did a couple years, none left my nigga

I can't do another stretch my nigga

So it's either shut it down, or it's death my nigga