Everyday, all the time, every day. I need an ounce and a half SP. The only flow that you know with a bounce and a half. Listen, kid, I need a mountain of cash so I can roll up, hop in the weapon like to the AB. I get high cause I’m in the hood. The guns is around to take a blunt just to ease the pain and humble me now. And I rather roll something up. Cause if I’m sober, dog, I just might flip, grab my guns and hold something up. I get high as a kite. I’m in the zone all alone, motherfucker. Case I’m dying at night, night. So I’ll roll them up back to back, fat as I could. You got beef with Styles P? I come to splatter the hood.