| Upgrade dope trade, the cops run they raids |
| We be skatin' on thin ice, call it icecapades |
| If you don’t stay on yo toes, you might catch the fade |
| See my heart is filled with malice, aurora borealis |
| Get paid, get paid, get, get, get, get paid |
| If you playin' with the paper, then you can get sprayed |
| Got the outside alligator inside swede |
| Call me special ed 'cause yo I got it made |
| She said, «I feel dead inside» |
| I said, «Get inside, let me drive you to suicide» |
| These voices in my head, how’d they get inside? |
| These feelings I can’t hide, let’s take a murder ride |
| I feel like a lion, talkin' to these sheep |
| Yeah I’m wide awake, and you fools sleep |
| You wanna be dead, like six feet? |
| Forever now hold your peace or be like Lil Peep |
| Sleep and get deep cheap for a dope fiend |
| If you O.D. in the hood, that’s a smoke screen |
| Never go against the family get shot in the face like Moe Greene |
| I’m an old soul, live by the old code |
| Take it Eazy-E, nigga sippin' Old Gold |
| I’m an ice tea nigga, got a cocoa |
| Only fuckin' with the coke if it’s |
| Baby, only addicted to the money |
| Comin' down choppin' on blades rainy or sunny |
| Take the polar plunge, the smoke froze in my lungs |
| Inhale, black out, wake up and bust tongues |
| Got a lot of guns, but don’t make me use 'em |
| Reel Life nigga with the fake, don’t confuse 'em |
| Got a 21-gun salute for a savage |
| Got the habit like a rabbit, I put one off in your cabbage |
| When your clockin' cold cash be the reason that they hate ya |
| My words like icebergs, I spit glaciers |
| Sip sip sippin' on some sizzurp |
| When I spit this wicket shit, I could cause a blizzard |
| Get murked if I whip out my Lil Uzi Vert |
| I’m not Lucifer, nobody move, nobody get hurt |
| I’m a Detroit player, we be puttin' in work |
| They ask me where I got it from, I got it out the dirt |
| Skeet skrrt, in the V12 bustin' off shells |
| You can go to Hell if you be fuckin' with twelve |
| Thirteen fourteen fifteen sixteen |
| Seventeen shots loaded up in the magazine |
| First name Esham, last name Smith |
| Skiing down an avalanche of cash, call me snowdrift |
| Frostbite, northern lights, my aurora borealis |
| From the streets of Detroit, my heart still filled with malice |
| My heart still filled with malice |
| My heart still filled with malice |
| My heart still filled with malice |
| My heart still filled with malice |