Blood on the Leaves - Waka Flocka Flame

Strange fruit hangin' from the poplar trees\nBlood on the leaves\nBreeze, breeze\nBlood on the leaves\nBreeze, breeze\nBlood on the leaves\nBreeze, breeze\nBlack bodies\nSwinging in the southern breeze, breeze\nStrange fruit hangin' from the poplar trees\nFrom the poplar trees\nFlocka on that bullshit again\nThe preacher in the pool pit again\nYou fucking losers bout to forfeit again\nYour importance seems so enormous and then\nYour cooperate friends pull up in that 'fuck is this?'\nTurn pale when you see my fucking bucket list\nLife is super sweet, smoke the finest sour\nI’m 'bout to hang glide from the Eiffel tower\nMy silent hour when I’m on stage raging\nThey used to look down, now I see they face changin'\nThe bass banging\nThe game make them taste fame and\nYou niggas lame so I guess I have to say it layman\nWaka Flocka!\n(Black bodies, swinging in the southern breeze)\nSquad nigga, you can’t fuck with us nigga\nWe knock the fuck ya’ll niggas out\n4 years in this shit nigga\nBreeze! Pussy\nStrange fruit hangin' from the poplar trees\nFrom the poplar trees\nFlocka on them trees, that’s blood on the leaves\nAll I need a pretty face, little something to squeeze\nAnd it’s nothing to me\nMan I came from a different lane\nI’m 'bout to cop four tickets to a Clippers game\nMake sure I wear every single fucking chain\nNot because I can, but because he can’t\nBut why wait, I guess it change nothing still\nI wonder why my brothers kill\nOr wanna pop another pill\nI’m tryna find another thrill\nIt’s another degree\nMan, Flocka on them trees, that’s blood on the leaves\nSquad!