I'm not in the mood I knock you out Your shoes Didn't make any flips and Now my rent due You tryna get this smoke Its out the window Come with me Baby now, let's ride home Nat geo graphics in 4k Big booty bitches Baby that's my forte Call me chef base You smell the paraphernalia Fiends tryna Get to the product Its wrestlemania Loud mouth Chatterbox suck on my On my genitalia Pipe dreams Crack and the Pistols is what the flavors are Secrets in the dark Black skin on my Skeleton, it's halloween in a Room full of elephants Naked ladies In the sun tryna match My melanin, ban Me from the olympics Wanna trade my Medals in Who can **** with me think About It and I'll wait, you wouldn't fit The description in perfect health, NO I got my eye Through some heavy iron The led is auto pilot The trigger finger Happy without a license Draw weapons Those were the only Niggas we called the Artists, sketchy niggas Who end up dearly Departed The trigger happy With no emotions Delighted with death & I dare you look Without losing focus S'gwinya amakhowe And see jesus not using Focals, scorching My cinnamon sweet trees I was never sober And I gotta tell em when I'm.. I'm not in the mood I knock you out Your shoes, didn't Make any flips and Now my rent due You tryna get this smoke Its out the window Come with me Baby now let's ride home Poppa gotta brand New bag I gotta get Some, I lost my mind I guess you Lose some The iron is scorching Look it's the morning star You better find That shade I'm tryna get sun, the streets On fire he dying so young, I know a Homie who gotta real gun Inherited money Blowing the lump sum Trust fund babies I couldn't see none I'm not in the mood I'm hungry as hell I knock him out of his suit Judge my decisions but you ain't Filling my shoes Listen to the rumors You ain't singing my blues