| You know that feelin' when you lose a box? |
| And it’s feelin' like time stopped |
| And you sittin' there plottin' with no other options |
| You know I’m re-coppin' |
| You know that feelin' when you lose a box? |
| And it’s feelin' like time stopped |
| And you sittin' there plottin' with no other options |
| You know I’m re-coppin' |
| You know the feelin' when it don’t show up? |
| And your phones blow up, bank accounts froze up |
| When you feel like you’re hot and you clean out your spot |
| I don’t think we should talk, but I need to re-cop |
| I wonder, what did they hear? Are they comin' for me? |
| Did they get a fingerprint? 'Cause I wiped that bitch clean |
| My mind spinnin', ashtray full in my Maybach |
| Did the homie lie? If he did, I want payback |
| Plottin' on ways to bounce back and be lowkey |
| Tryna push these greenhouse chems and some OG |
| 2010, the Feds tried me three times |
| At the airport pullin' me out of the line |
| Countin' my cash and runnin' through my bags |
| Ask me questions, I knew it’s all bad |
| You know that feelin' when you wake up trippin'? |
| I wonder if they caught me slippin' |
| You know that feelin' when you lose a box? |
| And it’s feelin' like time stopped |
| And you sittin' there plottin' with no other options |
| You know I’m re-coppin' |
| You know that feelin' when you lose a box? |
| And it’s feelin' like time stopped |
| And you sittin' there plottin' with no other options |
| You know I’m re-coppin' |
| I wonder, who do I blame? Don’t put smut on my name |
| 'Cause this number will change, that’s just part of the game |
| You can’t reach me at all, heard you can’t find a line |
| I wonder how you are, I ask all the time |
| See, the thing about losin' a box, you never know |
| If the Feds intercept it or the package was stole |
| It’ll fuck with your soul and close circles for sure |
| Gettin' head and some weed is my cure |
| Should I drive 'em or have 'em fly 'em? |
| Where the carry-on luggage? It’s worth tryin' |
| Fuck the mailman and all of them dogs, I want my work back |
| I miss 2012, bring the Perc' back |
| I’m fillin' up the U-Haul truck |
| 'Cause the 18-wheeler been in Utah, stuck |
| I’m sick of the road and the air been burnt |
| When you lose work, that shit hurt |
| You know that feelin' when you lose a box? |
| And it’s feelin' like time stopped |
| And you sittin' there plottin' with no other options |
| You know I’m re-coppin' |
| You know that feelin' when you lose a box? |
| And it’s feelin' like time stopped |
| And you sittin' there plottin' with no other options |
| You know I’m re-coppin' |
| You know the feelin', the gut feelin' |
| You know the feelin', the gut feelin' |
| You know the feelin', the gut feelin' |
| If it make it, then we touch millions |
| You know the feelin', the gut feelin' |
| You know the feelin', the gut feelin' |
| You know the feelin', the gut feelin' |
| If it make it, then we touch millions |