AIRMAIL!

Original

South got something to say. That's all I'm saying.

Yeah.

Nigga.

Southside.

-Villain. -What?

Ayy.

-Check. I can't lie about shit. -What?

Bitch, I'm speaking from my soul. I was lying in the pits.

I was sleeping on the floor. I swear the fear of being broke and angry keep me on the road.

The fame cool, but bottom line, bitch, I need the fucking dough.

That's why I'm out here -chasing checks. -What?

And I ain't out here chasing sex. They say it costs to be the boss.

Well, dawg, it's time I paid my debt. They putting money on the game.

Well, dawg, it's time you place your bet. I'm trying to get the biggest dawg like Draymond, Klay, and

Steph. Bitch, we the champs. You can have LeBron, bitch, can't nobody beat the camp.

My team hoop, you wanna stop us, you need some clamps.

I send the smoke to -everybody. -What?

I promise that I don't need no stamp. This shit is airmail.

If you don't wanna bow -down, then farewell. Bad guy wins again. -What?

Masked up, fleeing the scene of the crime. Doing 90, chiefin' a pint.

Don't give a fuck about these other guys. I need to get mine. I'm about to take over the world.

I hope y'all peep it in time. It's Plusch, nigga.

What?

Yeah. Southside shit, nigga. Flash Mob, College Park, all that.

-What?

-Ain't none of y'all niggas fucking with me, niggas.