Oleg's Flight - The Alchemist, Fashawn

This is dedicated to you, the halfway crook

Poking bitches on Facebook

Same lame get his chain took

I throw flames let his frame cook

Glad bags and black mags is the season

Mothafucka I don’t get mad, I get even

Burning the devil’s, lettuce out the Garden of Eden

20 deep in the park, pardon my heathens

We all here, Grizzy Gang playing your pallbearers

I support the right to arm bears

Long stares, I’ll lift you out your lawn chair

Nigga, better keep 'em calm when the Don’s near

This is cloud rap off a loud pack

Committing foul acts with a wild batch

A game having, chain snatching

Crime figures, you know, my niggas

Fucking with thugs

Out to get scratch like a lottery ticket

Never stopping my mission, nigga, uh

It’s only logic that I gotta be the mothafuckin' man

If you could empathize with me then you would understand

That I’m an over achiever, a born leader

That was taught to never ever leave the house without a heater

And for the dearly departed, pour out a couple liters

And let 'em sink in the cement

Niggas said that I graduated from scheming

Well, maybe not, still California Dreaming

A parking lot full of Impalas and Beamers

A couple yachts, bitches swallowing my semen

Shoe box full of dollars for no reason, I’m a problem

Best believe it, vomit like I’m bulimic over something supersonic

Kinda rhyming procedures, ironic

My competition’s just a bunch of juniors, Cuba Goodings

, in fact life is Russian Roulette

Only way to win, if you do it to death, it’s F