All Black Chucks with Camoflauge strings gold aglets to match .
Ha What do I care just black it all out with warpaint and Camo, Woulfe

I'm an Atlanta artist with some skill
I lace up in camo and go for the kill
No go for the slaughter my motion to bills
On a road to a Billie a whole lotta bodies
My flows leonidus approaching a million
Soldiers my weapons can hold em and then overthrow em
I'm only opening here
I won't sign a deal if the zeros ain't right
And I still own Chao but they still get a bite
If these wing wolves were hunting for hundreds
No signing for money
We signing for us to take flight
Reckless and ratchets, steps toward the apprehension
Of power, sector of assassins, checks for the cash
And tech for the rappers
Execs are just totalitarian bastards
But next up is Castro. . Next up is CASTRO
Efforts unmatched, and connects with the pack
But give chicks no attachment
Even in messages, not texting back
I'm seconds from snapping, someone help me relax
My n***as got Cannons, they nick you with Drums that connect to the straps
And leave necks in your lap
But I'm real had no beef with these n***as but think I can't grill then
You end up flipped with a spatula
Film the revolt and I still will appeal to the masses
Like let's inhale all of this gas
Then derail every track that I get on I'm not just a spitta
I'm Shakespeare who lived in the trap
With my feelings detached, I got rid of em
Back with the kids who already put kids in a casket
But I'm not like that, I'm just chilling be careful my friends probably kill you over The Pack
Chaoti still tryna cop me a meal
Not enough zeros Do not wanna a deal
And still got my freedom not stopping my will
And my Partnas still got me Chaos keep it real
I hope all of you listening know

Castro the totalitarian
Smother your mother to just get a chance to embarrass
Whoever you thought was the hardest becoming a target
He better have some one to carry
His casket I'm going for assets
And carrying rap in a satchel, the strap start to tear up
My shoulders been liftin but that's from me whippin the weight of hip hop on my back (authoritarian)
In tippy top shape, since 50 got paid
Homies whippin his white like the kids misbehaved
Damn skippy I'm great, a mixture of greats
I'm the sickness invented to kill all your favs
I'm six feet away still diggin my grave
But I will not be slaved and I will get my pay
My people must eat so don't wanna deal
Just give me a meal. . . Then we straight

Chaoti still tryna cop me a meal
Not enough zeros Do not wanna a deal
And still got my freedom not stopping my will
And my Partnas still got me Chaos keep it real
And I just want you to know