The Banjo

Die, bitch, die, hoe

New God flow, no I go

Diablo, why, hoe?

Why, bitch, do time tick?

Think about it, you die slow

If not you die quick

I’m sicker than Theraflu

Wickeder than a kick over headstone

Sippin' on redrum

After I'm finished just swimmin' inside of the dead pool

After I'm finished just inflictin' on the guy a despicable head wound

Nothin' is important, but to import tons

On my fourth run while I'm eatin' lunch with my forked tongue

I swing this motherfuckin' barrel loose

I don't fuck with knives, nigga, I'm Sardo Numsie

Y'all niggas call the police on my people regardless

Rock a bye with my piece then call it Keisha in Harlem

I'm the highest of all beings, my eye is the all-seeing

Dribblin' fireballs with lion paws for my audience

What if the Devil played the banjo?

What if he invited you out on the dance floor?

There's one of six million different ways this can go

Ayo, your fishscale Fisher-Price

First shot killed a nigga, but I hit him twice

My trigger finger itchin' like it was lice

Sent the white in a pot with the ice, whipped it nice

Hurricane whipped the whole slag

Fiend hit the glass, hit his ass, you know the math

I toe tag me a nigga, you know I spaz

I throw a bag to my young nigga, he'll get it over fast

G-wag, 24 karat

Silencer on the Mac 12, you ain't even hear it

Lightning strikin' on the Neil Barrett

Fuck nigga don't get embarrassed

Fuck your two Sarah's out in Paris

Bitch nigga, your life, you better cherish

Ten shooters show up to your show just to air it

Griselda, the dinner place swingin'

Body in the Bentley truck, shit reakin'

What if the Devil played the banjo?

What if he invited you out on the dance floor?

There's one of six million different ways this can go

(So go fast)

Eyes are the windows to the soul, what your secret is?

Once had to battle the reaper, and I ethered him

No tellin' what I'll sing on the mic, he got reefer in 'em

Ghost guts, I can see a ghost, and speak to 'em

Buildin' with the dead like every other night

And I never write a rhyme, I recite my other life

You thinkin' this a verse, but it's more of a testimonial

So flow, up in the zone, only the lonely know

Thinkin' I'm geekin', but I'm reachin' my dead homies, though

Told 5'9 if I have a nine to five

I'll line rappers with the nine and rob em five times

Every day, seven days a week, call it crime time or

Thirty-five licks, nigga, that's a prime rhyme

Fightin' Bruce Lee's demon, but I'm agin' like fine wine

You don't understand me

Cause you don't stand under the code that mean family

Ghost is uncanny

What if the Devil played the banjo?

What if he invited you out on the dance floor?

There's one of six million different ways this can go