Yeah, gang
(DJ Bandz, oh, man)
Ain’t gon’ lie, we on this bitch geeked as hell
Switches and Dracs
Yeah
Man, that shit I said ’bout dude, ain’t write that, they ain’t like that
Man, them 7.62s all to his face and he can’t fight that
Niggas talkin’ ’bout who they killed in here, m-th, man, where my pipe at?
Ain’t gon’ lie, I don’t need no cash, it take two Percs to get your life snatched, I’m a gangsta
You can’t name a — from the other side ain’t died yet
I ain’t takin’ threats, the man that killed your mans ain’t died yet
Foe’nem take your shit, I cannot argue with ’em, bag back
Since you woofin’ like you killin’, grab your gun and slide back
Been MIA, I just got back, jet from Dubai to Memphis Tenn’
Lil A cray-cray, call him Beyblade, pull the string and watch ’em spin
Ain’t no comin’ back from shit, I’m not the type to make amends
Penthouse suite or TSA, the only place I’m checkin’ in
Didn’t get you here but got your man, I heard they pulled a triple spin
Let’s celebrate and crack a eighth, I’m on that Wock’ with Trip again
I’m still stuck on what you said, what the fuck you mean you scared?
Since they can’t keep me off their mind, I’m tryna put one in their head
First it was our beef, now you talking ’bout it’s my beef
They playin’ both sides, lil’ bro keep them folks from ’round me
ATL, been hittin’ the block, like every day, tryna sweep somethin’
OTF, stand on their business, I let Zoo put on my budget
You can’t name a — from the other side ain’t died yet
I ain’t takin’ threats, the man that killed your mans ain’t died yet
Foe’nem take your shit, I cannot argue with ’em, bag back
Since you woofin’ like you killin’, grab your gun and slide back
Gotti gave me seven-fifty, I ain’t get fresh, I went bought straps
How much cash they got for Gee? Tell ’em, “We gon’ triple that”
Finessed the grower, told ’em, “I ain’t like it,” he said, “Send it back”
All my brothers’ case dismissed, we got a lawyer, nigga, we don’t rat
Boy, your life gon’ cost a ‘Vette, all that woofin’ on the ‘net
Tell your big brother he next, trappin’ fentanyl out a ‘Cat
My big bro had told me, “Chill and rap”, I’m like, “Fuck all that”
Niggas want that smoke until their lungs collapsed, I turn my hood Iraq
Hurry now, we got-got switches on it with a drum attached
SLS, nigga, try turn to a jet, ain’t no outrunnin’ that
Rep like they killed Red, what I do? Flew to the crib
And spin again and spin again and spin again ’til somethin’ dead
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