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I'm here for my niggas and all of my street hustlers, and my niggas in the booth spit the truth to them suckas, I'm that knuckle ripping cats that swag the track crusher, I'm the sheets digging deep, they call me the back buster, how you busters get back, my naughty cats are rushing, and won't leave no fingerprints and no evidence, you fuckers bout to suffer, when you discover we done had enough of, all that bitching and that snitching, pop the clip and just touch it, niggas see it, wouldn't wanna,
back this like the beer, all my niggas puffing that wood, feeling good, cha-chia, hoppin bottles, hitting models of women that's similar, and you bragging bout a * and forgot that I've been with her, see I get around like Mr. Chacon and hood rumors, break her back, hit the track like a pair of good pumas, giving niggas good tumors, talking about my clique, when I say I'm sitting on doves, not talking about my whip, that's my chip,
Yeah, it's me, boy
Put your hands up, man
Don't lie to me, man
You know what I'm sayin'?
From the city
To the trap
I'm so focused, I swear, man
You can't even catch me on the camera, man
So I'm tellin' you
Well, hello, it's our bills
You know the nigga you dream about
If niggas really want it like T.I.P., then bring them out
I wet them all up so the hospital could ring them out
Better hit the ground than run when you see that thing is out
The best of the best, civilian the truth
Firefighters on speed dial when I step in the booth
I heard them rhymes y'all was kickin' when you speakin' my name
And I loved all the attention, so keep speakin' my name
Some bills be killin' crews with unforgettable verses
Body-whacked rappers and put them in lyrical hearses
I'm so sick and I can't be cured with no medicine
I'm tired of smashin' rookies, ah, where's all the veterans?
You said you not feelin' super-sized bills, you lied
You never was on your grind, I'm the one that inspired you
Go home, lil' homie, you see that this man's hot
Cause I do big boy things and you stuck in the sandbox
Here's the handle, put that with your hand up
Here's the handle, put that with your hand up
Put that with your hand up
Put that with your hand up
Put that with your hand up
Put that with your hand up

Pusteers down as the killers go home
Here's the handle, put that with your hand up
Put that with your hand up
Put that with your hand up
Put that with your hand up
Put that with your hand up
Put that with your hand up
Pusteers down as the killers go home
Here's the handle, put that with your hand up
Put that with your hand up
Put that with your hand up
Put that with your hand up
Moin'
Ayy
She wet the P-Rat
Y'all already know Tripp, he a representative
Swag of BMT
Truly producin' the motherfuckin' South
Y'all already know how we get down, I been on my homie
My homeboy
My brother from another mother
DJ Gunshin, man, you know what I mean?
Steel, motherfuckin' major
You heard me, nigga, Steel, baby
He was doin' that
Ayy, G
DJ Gunji
It's Frankie Stangle
Red
You poppin' poppin', baby
You already know