Hold up, this crafty beat
And that one there old dog, hot child, the DJ runnin' back
Tuna, tuna, straight choppers, I ain't fuckin' with that scribe
It just keep growin', tweetin', I'ma pop his fuckin' hat
Watch this man's cry, body tell his ass, laugh at that
If I jump right on your ass, it ain't no change, you blessin' back
All that super mad *, get your ass put on your back
Niggas never had a pole, but he screamin' he don't laugh
Quit the setting on that block, we poppin' ass the way I laugh
Hold deep in this, run no hair, I know this ain't no splat
Tryna watch this nigga die in a few days with double back
Bro, I'm tryna go and spin and hit my line like, where you at?
They on the block, right now, *, let's go and make them pay
Don't you speak on all that *, cause I'll get you gone for that
We gon' fuckin' kill his ass and make a song about this *
* that nigga cause he dead, so carry on with that *
Bitch, I do my own work, so on my own I blitz
Niggas dissin' cause they mad about them dead-ass opps
Hit them legs in the air, once he drop, don't stop
Dirty clip on his blizzy 50 on the AR
And they hit me with this, see me tryna catch me, uh-uh
Baby Rollo with the stick and I like jumpin' out the car
Cause I'll chase your ass down and put nine in your top
I'm a fuckin' state champ, show your ass where I'm far
Had to cut her ass off, she ain't wanna let me *
I get silly off that Henny tryna * a nigga up
I got my niggas in this bitch, so boy, it ain't no one-on-one
Don't let me get outside the club, murder one, somebody die
Get the bag and add a crowd and ride your ass by the run
Got a chopper in the car, I ain't bring it
Bitch, for nine, if I go in the backseat, man, I run and make it fun
I don't really like the route, cause I feel drilled in number one
You better hope I ain't with you, you get caught without that gun
You a bitch and you know that your partner is, too
New R back in the house, but niggas down, ain't nothin' new
38 in the club, you buy my stuff, I'm fuckin' short
Spill drink on my clothes, bitch, cause everything new
Scribble bitch on that pole, break a home, I want it too
Quick 30 with no perky, imagine what the weed do
He rub that * with them guys, then he get banged, too
50 round on the stick, show you what that thang do
Brother actin' like he on it, we gon' crack his brain, too
Don't come outside this bitch that died
And the guys blame you
You gon' hide it, you gon' slide, get that flame and swing, too
So we can party, fuckin' cargo to your hood and swing, too
Run her up, nigga down, leave his brains on the shoe
We the gang, chop her bang, bitch, we aim when we shoot
Back on, gloves tight when I'm flamin' at you
And we'll never leave her when this bitch be stayin' at them, too