Who got the ups on us?
Strap across your shirt like, buckle up
You can't miss, I'll send you on that
Hit my dad, you f*** it up
Clip ho, got like T-trimmers
Riff street, my money up
Wave his b***h like, hey, what's up?
Soon as fed, we'll get close enough
Don't wanna bump they punks on IG
Hope I post them up
I'll talk to them bodies late at night
When I be rolling up
They know it's us
Go with all that flagging
Bragging, I'll choke them, bruh
40, that's the caliber
The magazine is 17
I got this from Matt and Ying
18 times 33
I hope he ain't selling dreams
Might go back to Melling Key
Cause I don't want no good
Make good, the felon, please
My wrist methamphetamine
You know there's that ice
Talk, hop out on foot, let pipe off
Yellow tape, white chalk
OT getting this ice off
For a hundred miles
Every country town around
We beat it down
Used to bag up pieces
Sitting up east
Listen to wipe me down
I know they don't like me
Not your brother, sister, cousin
Pairs ever hit the house
Put my *** in the oven
They get cheaper by the dozen
Still grew to a mile
So we blow them choppers
I don't know my alphabet
Tell me what come after rich
Play with us, we whacking
Claiming and stamping
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, these don't want beef
What is they IG killers?
We bending blocks in three
Reynolds, I don't see
Keep drilling
Breed killers
We at least
Spinner's big
Shine to keep his heat
With them, even sleep with it
Wake up
Be younger from the front
Go get that makeup
To make sure all my
Had a piece
I took a pay cut
Gon' put this apartment
In her name
You need some pay stuff
So I'm cranking off fake drugs
It's four hundred and eight months
Ten with me like Easter
The driver like my Ida
That's the only
I can't touch
These
It's not me
These
It's not G
Got blow pack
Got Roxy
Got weed
Still Sebastian
I'm top ten
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Go get some
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 snorting H-lines
In the side, county
Can't find
With a faux fat on my waistline
Like, next, I'm lit now
Cross door, I'm big slam
I'm still sliding, I'm rich now
Everybody got a pig's ass
Cigarettes to hold up my wrist high
My little brother took six lives
He a look
But look six five
Can't an opp say that they didn't hide
Yeah
Yeah