Craig Vill - Soul of a Poet

He called me pussy so I got nine lives
I lost four of them bitches but I still got five
It ain't the money that changed
Niggas still be enslaved
Shooting twelves out the pump
I up it to twenty-eight gauge
Come and catch me lacking
Since you want to match that action
Just like that nigga painted on the back of that jean jacket
Got a quarter tank of gas
Don't know what's on the dash
Driving on locust ave like somebody on my ass
I ain't Est
I ain't even a G
But I done dugg some graves
That's Forty-two inches deep
Yea. Ok
I understand that it's three
But when you catch a body it really ain't no time for six feet
Since they gonna hate me I'm taking over
They gon be debating what hit harder
Craig or the shit that they was cooking in the eighties with the baking soda
That's how you know the game is over
Shoot up the party before them niggas can even make it over
Niggas ain't shit
Well I'm not niggas
Only saying that cause allegedly I shot niggas
This shit real to me
Better conceal the heat
Go to ya hood and ya niggas ready to kill for me
If I bring a gun in
Better get to running
I almost killed a youngin
For absolutely nothing
But if I gotta shoot I gotta claim the whole family
That's what I call a calculated calamity
Don't go thinking that you can randomly handle me
And niggas always confusing reality with fantasy
We living good if you ask me
Chilling with Pri
In his bombed out back seat
And I can really go there
Take you to the darkest spot
Me and Eric chilling in the Wawa parking lot
That could be a scary thing
That can mean many things
Specifically to me it mean I walk away with anything
It's been five years
Y'all forgot that I rap
A Nigga got ya brother killed
What you forgot about that
What rapper you know that's rapping better than this
My four pockets full of all death certificates
I got a peace of mind
Cause every beat I eat just like it's feeding time
Niggas falling back off the wave like receding lines
You'd be surprised at all the smiles that we saw when Malik had died
It took thirty minutes before all of the police had arrived
Nobody crying or hoping that he survived
That's how the evil minds of Allegheny was getting these people lined
Like fuck
Let the beat breathe
Money over women
Point the weapons at the children
I got niggas really killing
And they never wanna be seen
Why would I sell drugs
I double it from rap
And if I'm not hot nigga the fuck you gon call that

Written by:
Craig Jackson-Johnson

Publisher:
Lyrics © ALPHA MUSIC, INC., O/B/O DistroKid

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