Centurion (feat. Vince Staples)

I feel like the Tom Sawyer for real niggas

Looking for a problem, revolver under the Hilfiger

No bluff needed, we will kill niggas

So try me if you want, bruh, I promise I'm with all of that

Late night shooters, got 'em thinking Johnny Carson back

Trying to win this white man game with my heart attack

All off a dollar and a dream that I really had

Kind of hard to sleep when your thoughts is in the streets

North north is the side where my family stay

Big Baby Jesus, I can't wait

Money coming in, spend it all on guns and rims

I ain't nothing but a nigga, ain't no reason to pretend

Kept the sticky in the Stussy pouch

Ski mask, bloody 'Preme hoodie tossing doobies out

The window of the hoopty, night black as Paul

Mooney at the movies but the moon was out

Food was always optional

Eating nothing but hard punches to that abdominal

Closed fist chronicles, sole sniff momma knew

Baggies laying 'round, peanut shells at a carnival

Stomping clowns, welcome pussy niggas to the romper room

Buckshot'll cover a whole torso like a parka do

In a park at 2 clock trying to guard her loot

Split it with his big roll dog, call him Marmaduke

Searching for a shard of truth and found uh

Couple bucks bought his cousins lunch

Another Dutch, stiff collar on the button-up

Hood, rich, wild, and 'bout to run amuck

Road to hell paved with cement, cut the trucks and drugs, toughen up

Alright, okay

If that's how you truly feel about it then

Vinny Stape, they stupid, think the city safe

Into that little bendy place, head shots, red dot

Block as hot as Denny plates, fed watch, Fed watch

Opinions only pity based, deep in the Civic with the

Evilest niggas this side of the Mississippi

All courtesy of Vincent from niggas who plot a ditch

Ear-L-double-S, hear shells from the Tec

Hear rim full-effect, eat a dick and cut a check, bitch

Few niggas I'm on a first-name basis with

Address me by the alias, that trunk weighted like he

'Bout to catch a case again, Ace louder than the voice of

Satan that be plaguing him, bruh, I'm caking

Whether Hell or bad weather, high water, I'm a sailor-type

Assailant for the paper, living like I met the maker twice

Hit it 'til I'm faded right? Mami, take a hike

And treat it like you fucking shaking dice, bitch