I got murder on my mind AK47, MAC-11, Glocks, and 9's And all these pussy niggas hating tryna knock me off my grind But I can't let 'em do it I got murder on my mind (I got murder on my mind) I wake up in the morning I got murder on my mind Bitch I got

Ballin' like I'm Jordan cause I'm blessed up Wake up every morning feelin' blessed up Pull up in that holy Ghost cause I'm blessed up I'mma do the most cause I'm blessed up And niggas want me gone but I'm still alive I got God watchin' over me from

(Call me a Florida boy) Wake up, nigga, wake up Yeah, bitch, I'm a Florida Boy 73s to them AMGs, now we rollin', boys I beat all of them cases, I'm on Bitch, I'm a Florida boy Old school, big-ass rims, sittin' like Tonka Toys I got a Florida state of

Pour up, drank, head shot, drank Sit down, drank, stand up, drank Pass out, drank, wake up, drank Faded, drank, faded, drank Nigga why you babysittin only two or three shots? I'mma show you how to turn it up a notch First you get a swimming pool full of

What you expected from his next of kin I'm loco bro, but ain't no Mexican I got nines in the bedroom, Glocks in the kitchen A shotty by the shower if you wanna shoot me while I'm shittin' The lesson from the Smith and Wesson is depressin' Niggas keep

Shitty niggas, you some turds, ayy Yeah, VVS the chain When it rains I'm still happy Got some American hoes they call me daddy-y And if you sleep, wake up, you bitch as fuck And if you gettin' buck, them clips is up And we get to airing it out, and we

Ayy, y'all heard about the good news? Wake up, nigga, wake up I've been outta my mind a long time Y'all sleeping on me, huh? Had a good snooze? Hands up, we just doing what the cops taught us We bout to get this paper I'm a Chicago south sider Money

Pour up, drank, head shot, drank Sit down, drank, stand up, drank Pass out, drank, wake up, drank Faded, drank, faded, drank Nigga why you babysittin' only 2 or 3 shots? I'mma show you how to turn it up a notch First you get a swimming pool full of

On the dead locs Blueface baby Yeah, aight, on the dead locs Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh I had to wake that bitch up, she was 'sleep on me (wake yo' ass up) Yea aight, look at me now, lil' baby Fuck a nigga talkin' 'bout? Tough on the 'Gram, bet you the .223

I wake up and roll some dank up with my niggas I got on the phone and caught up with some bitches I got dressed, I mixed the Tisa with Versace I smoked a joint and took a BR, now I'm irie I'm irie, I'm irie, I'm irie I'm irie, yeah, I'm irie When I'm in