Who got the ups on us?Strap across your shirt like, nigga, buckle upYou can't miss, I'll send you on thatHit my dad, you *** it upClip ho, got like T-trimmers, rip street, nigga, my money upWave his bitch like, hey, what's up?Soon as fed, we'll get close enoughNiggas don't want bump, they punks on IGHope I post them upI'll talk to them bodies late at night when I be rollin' upThey know it's us, gon' hold all that flagAnd bitch, we braggin', I'll choke on bruh40, that's the caliber, the magazine is 17I got this from Etienne, 18 times 33I hope he ain't sellin' dreams, might go back to Mellon KeysI don't want no good, bitch, make good, bitch, you fell in peaceMy wrist methamphetamine, you know there's that iceTalk, hop out, I'm full, let pipe offYellow tape, white chalk, OT gettin' this ice offFor a hundred miles, every country town around, we beat it downUsed to bag up pieces, sittin' up east, listen to wipe me downI know they don't like me, not your brother, sister, cousinPills ever hit the house, put my *** in the ovenThey get cheaper by the costThe roof to a mom, so we blow them choppers, bitchI don't know my alphabet, tell me what come after richPlay with us, we whackin' ***, claimin' *** and stampin' ****** y'allThese niggas don't want beef with us, they IG killersWe bendin' blocks in three rentals, I don't see niggas keep drillin'Bitch, we breed killers, we eliteSpinner's big, shine to keep his heat with him, even sleep with itWake up, bitch, won't *** the youngin' from the front, go get that make-upTo make sure all my niggas had a piece, I took a pay cutHope gon' put your spartan in her name, you need some pay stubsI'm crankin' off fake drugs, it's four hundred and eight monthsTen with me like Asta, the driver like my idolThat's the only bitch I can't touchThese niggas is not me, these niggas is not GGot blow pack, got Roxy's, got weed stems, Sebastian, I'm top tenGo catch one and get locked in, got out of line and get knocked inIn my city, I'm top ten, I'm oneTwo, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nineWith a white boy snortin' H-linesIn the sad county, niggas can't findWith a faux fat on my waistline, like ***nicks, I'm lit nowCross door, I'm big slam, I'm still slattin', I'm rich nowEverybody got a pig's ass, cigarettes to hold up my wrist highMy lil' brother took six lives, he a lil' nigga, but look, six-fiveCan't a opp say that they didn't hide*
