Lost - Snowgoons, Doap Nixon, Block McCloud

I see you lost why you try look in your eyes I see you lost

Callin' the source droppin' dimes if you talk it don’t walk it

Get stuck in a trunk team is mean and I’m a fiend bitch I gotta be walk

I see them lost like Pac in a trap I can’t stack on all*

Stones to walk beat this chalk with a chump

I pencil a lime around your spine and coke a dime

Calling my fam for a 'lil shine nigga get off

My dick like tricks up in my face want a taste

Disgrace to the game so I restrain

It’s quite simple man, we take stabs at these corns

And leave them leaking where they stand wishing they wasn’t born

And I’m gone Loonie unleashed take a peek I need a son

To pass this shit on I tell you before I’m the one

You done heard about dreamed about

So forth ja gave me these jewels

Before i see em get full course I’m lost

No loyalty government got em scared

No heart running around they just afeared

That’s why I’m here the voice of

Millions is still clear to god would

Be allah wit his lit up in the air

Yo Respect, you’re right fam I can’t deny I’m a lost soul

World is a mess so I set up camp at the cross roads

To wage war on the skulls and crossbones

I’m drawing these lines and they’re gonna be

Harder to pass than gall stones

America’s laws disorientated by Bush’s lies on

Foreign relations this ain’t war we invaded and stole

Oil and rations, destroyer of nations, it’s poisonous

Snakes in the Bush organization and we, the people

Sit back spit raps we dumb, blinded by the bling

And the finest blood diamond and while you watching TV

Big brother watching and see me holding my cock in three D (haha!)

You got health issues 'cause they spreading diseases

Drinking top shelf booze won’t be getting you Yeezys

So for me it’s better to be lost and wage war in the underground

Than be found down in the grave as a slave whore

Tha God is ill, all I need is a classic

I paint brush the chaos my hooks is drastic

The fiends is eating, the crooks is blasted

My cream’s increasing, my books is plastic

And I’mma spend this money like it’s my last chance

To feed workers on point, like it’s my last dance

I’m from Philly we don’t lean with it/rock with it

We cook, cut, bag, straight to the block with it (money)

Yup, it ain’t my fault this crack sells

That’s the biggest scapegoat just to keep blacks jailed

And we still make bills that’s out our pocket

Quarter mill big faces, and it’s out of pocket

Gangsters don’t rap they low key

When it’s time to go beef they clap your whole street

OG’s that don’t drink or smoke trees

But fucking with this game got me lost in my own streets