Dave from Work - The Journey West

I like my vodka and cranberry separately
I got blue shells for these niggas ahead of me
Eyes in the hills when I move up to Beverly
Boys in the field with that nuclear weaponry
Heart made of steel I can't chill with no wedding ring
Aiming to kill, 50 shots from his head to feet
Xio said that she gone wait for a better me
Need a new barber to match my new pedigree
Ain't no farmers but smoking on evergreen
ADHD, didn't hear what you said to me
Can't trust a bitch, don't know why these hoes next to me
Can't let the past be the past, bitch you're dead to me
Told 'em I got 'em, but he ain't in debt to me
That's my bro he gone shoot with tec for me
Run in your house for that bread like we never eat
Lay 'em down like a nigga that never sleeps
Oh, that's me
Can't take my foot off these rap niggas' necks
If I call to collect, better send me that check
Or your family's up next
On my name put respect
Oh, that's me
1 to the head and send 2 to the chest
Keep that glock on a track 'til he runs outta breathe
And it's hollow tip season, wear 2 or 3 vests
'Til I pack up the camp and we moving out west
Oh, that's me
We got 5.56 'round here
And in the same drake load the .223s
Oh, that's me
Fuck all that talking we walk it out
Good luck with that barking
I won't do no arguing
If you want that static we spark it out
Built on a rock, my foundation
For I tread a path where the way's been forsaken
My demons they lurk and they're patiently waiting
They hope that I slip but this ice got me skating
High as a blimp but I'm on like the AC
Ouija board flow if a bitch wanna play me
Ghost in a shell, I take point like I'm KD
Gone smell like febreze when you see what I'm spraying
And something's gone shake, niggas March to my cadence
Money is King, I'm the God of the pagans
I make the call they gone step on vibration
Picasso the way with the Tec I be painting
Keep me a vest 'cause this life could get dangerous
Up off the hip I ain't got time for aiming
All these scarecrows cause ya’ll niggas is brainless
I’m straight out the mud so I snap like a caiman
Oh, that's me
Can't take my foot off these rap niggas' necks
If I call to collect better send me that check
Or your family's up next
On my name put respect
Oh, that's me
1 to the head and send 2 to the chest
Keep that glock on a track 'til he runs outta breathe
And it's hollow tip season, wear 2 or 3 vests
'Til I pack up the camp and we moving out west
Oh, that's me
We got 5.56 round here
And in the same drake load the .223s
Oh, that's me
Fuck all that talking we walk it out
Good luck with that barking
I won't do no arguing
If you want that static we spark it out

Written by:
Jailen Adams

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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