text: Why lie? Ill probably die where the dope is
  Face down in a pile of roses, right next to where the coke is
  Obituaries won’t be in English and make no sense
  Or died in the Poconos from overdosing on blowfish
  You fuckin wit a nigga thats dead already
  Told the bitch when I’m gone to fuck my team once my head is buried
  Dig me up once a year to give me head in the cemetery
  Leave her wielded, disclosed, its-its a brick in the Ben and Jerrys
  Fuck it, you bitch niggas some deadbeats
  Spittin, hittin, you hard to base, make niggas legs break
  Praying we move the weight in the day like Jenny Craig say
  And you make enough to not give a fuck about what the feds take
  Why lie? Ill probably die where the dope is
  Or in between sofa cushions smushed between where remotes live
  Divide a four-fifth, cause my nigga told me to dope hit
  Or die for fucking a nigga sister like Manolo did
  You cant hold my dick ’cause it’s too heavy
  .45s turn into .50 cals, this a new dessy
  Love a bitch with a pussy, butter-soft like a new Peli
  With AR’s that go from semi to fully with dual settings, uh
  True feelings grow within my melanin
  Pussy so good that I swore I would never swear again
  Pussy so good that I told her I couldnt bear to sin
  Until I got bored with shawty, and felt the need to tell a friend
  Why lie? Ill probably die where the dope is
  Or die because Im a lion, tryna get from the poachers
  Die from using a fork to get Pop-Tarts up out the toaster
  Die ’cause somebody lied and told me that Coke was just soda
  Die from too many lines, cause I swore that my dope was doper
  Die like wylin coyote, got hit with too many boulders
  Die cause he came from the right, and looked over the wrong shoulder
  Or die when fire ignites cause I didnt put out the smolder
  How Ima end it? 
  Both, I could die by suicide and leave such a nice note
  Italicize why, pantomime rhythms and tight flows
  Just for kicks, Id write right after fiddin goodnight, folks