Al Q8a

Who you know fresher than Heemy, riddle me that
The rest of y’all know where he is spiritually at
Lyrically liquor shot, like he’s spit from a gat
But I don’t glorify that, I dwell in the trap
Louisville Kentucky, with drawing in the slammer
Coke Boys t-shirt, dead like Osama
Osama, oh mama, sorry for all the drama
But you taught me bout the guala, told me to be bout commas
Hi haters, our guns from Al Qaeda
Naysayers, see you now or get you later
[?] Taliban and Dipset, Taliban is Herman
And alley man likes Spanish but German for certain
Our guns aren’t squirting, Trap-istan, we put our funds to work
Murk them, heat under kurta when we hurt them
6 feet deep, we put him under the dirt, dead

You do work, you get work
You do dirt, you get dirt
You fuck around, with these boys
No question, you get murked

Hi haters, our guns from Al Qaeda
Naysayers, see you now or get you later
Hi haters, our guns from Al Qaeda
Naysayers, see you now or get you later

This for [?], simple dangers, toting [?] under the register
And all illegal aliens, it’s them that never registered
I’m back on my old shit, baby I’m still Heems
Still gooning with the Guyanese out in Richmond Hill, Queens
I might move to the mountains out in Pakistan
Until my own government will drop a bomb
But you won’t hear about it in no news clip
Mommy they move quick, that’s just how they do shit

You do work, you get work
You do dirt, you get dirt
You fuck around, with these boys
No question, you get murked

You do work, you get work
You do dirt, you get dirt
You fuck around, with these boys
No question, you get murked

USA, USA, USA, USA [x3]
USA, U