Robert Rene Milot
here is a story I’m about to explain bout a boy that’s real with a gangster last name that’s felt mad pain dealt with strain seing his pops with the needle in his vain my moms was broke and ma pops sold dope and in 6th grade I stabled a kid in the througt I’m a young g boy that don’t give a fuck bout the game Ill tell ya story when I domed a kid 4 his chain i was illen at hall party slangin Cain in 04 with the r.bois, hommie talks shit I split his lip ma boy comes from behind with the grip put the gun 2 his chest ppl in n.v don’t run with a vest tell him keegz, he put it to his heart told him fuk with us and we will strait bust till the po coming in rushing 4 the dust been 2 jail been to hell I stumble but man I aint fell let me take you to my cell number #11 call me Milo hoe smoking mad dro making mad flow its Robbie fukin milot I pushed the kilo smoked the weed yo dropped a G in a week hoe bitch Im irreplaceable ur incapable insane im fula pain psychotic aint drunk of hypnotic or grey goose, jack Daniels bitch fuck juice cant find another mother fucker like me cant fight me ima write you of like G that’s a grand in ma hand u got sand in yaw hand I got snow im the man milo catch ya by surprise ho go down slow excite me I run the streets I run n.v and the east run-in van cause I can Burnaby 2 surrey im respected fuck with us and all get chequed in to the morgue were rolling in the ford explorer just rolled a quarter my dad was and angel so i dont need a loyer and so was Steve gun run-in they did 9, 9 years fore killing, I hit the ceiling when they got out 3 years later my pops got beat down buy a clown thinking he can run town now my dad is dead cause the goof hit him in the head with a bat man not a gat man and there aint no 1 to rat man but budy did 2, 2 years fore killing my child hood years have no fear don’t shed a tear fore me don’t look in ur rear 4 me just hit 3'rd gear fore me ina drop top screaming fuk the cops just with ma pops he ran red and white we shed red and sell white don’t put up a fight against the angels there is no fight its dime to us im doing time at 16
kicking rhymes that’s me white boy ima g slash ya face with the 40p at the new year porty don’t know karate so bust mase in ya face u know the taste cant fuk with us we g’s so bitch please stop talking shit and till I bust don’t get of ur knees this is the life of a young white mail out on bail aint chasing tail this is the life