Who got the ups on us?
Strap across your shirt like, nigga, buckle up
You can't miss, I'll send you on that
Hit my dad, you *** it up
Clip ho, got like T-trimmers, rip street, nigga, my money up
Wave his bitch like, hey, what's up?
Soon as fed, we'll get close enough
Niggas don't want bump, they punks on IG
Hope I post them up
I'll talk to them bodies late at night when I be rollin' up
They know it's us, gon' hold all that flag
And bitch, we braggin', I'll choke on bruh
40, that's the caliber, the magazine is 17
I got this from Etienne, 18 times 33
I hope he ain't sellin' dreams, might go back to Mellon Keys
I don't want no good, bitch, make good, bitch, you fell in peace
My wrist methamphetamine, you know there's that ice
Talk, hop out, I'm full, let pipe off
Yellow tape, white chalk, OT gettin' this ice off
For a hundred miles, every country town around, we beat it down
Used to bag up pieces, sittin' up east, listen to wipe me down
I know they don't like me, not your brother, sister, cousin
Pills ever hit the house, put my *** in the oven
They get cheaper by the cost
The roof to a mom, so we blow them choppers, bitch
I don't know my alphabet, tell me what come after rich
Play with us, we whackin' ***, claimin' *** and stampin' ***
*** y'all
These niggas don't want beef with us, they IG killers
We bendin' blocks in three rentals, I don't see niggas keep drillin'
Bitch, we breed killers, we elite
Spinner's big, shine to keep his heat with him, even sleep with it
Wake up, bitch, won't *** the youngin' from the front, go get that make-up
To make sure all my niggas had a piece, I took a pay cut
Hope gon' put your spartan in her name, you need some pay stubs
I'm crankin' off fake drugs, it's four hundred and eight months
Ten with me like Asta, the driver like my idol
That's the only bitch I can't touch
These niggas is not me, these niggas is not G
Got blow pack, got Roxy's, got weed stems, Sebastian, I'm top ten
Go catch one and get locked in, got out of line and get knocked in
In my city, I'm top ten, I'm one
Two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine
With a white boy snortin' H-lines
In the sad county, niggas can't find
With a faux fat on my waistline, like ***nicks, I'm lit now
Cross door, I'm big slam, I'm still slattin', I'm rich now
Everybody got a pig's ass, cigarettes to hold up my wrist high
My lil' brother took six lives, he a lil' nigga, but look, six-five
Can't a opp say that they didn't hide
*