Lyrics: Shadon Burnell/Jaquan Johnson
Music: Shadon Burnell
Likeโ
Word to my dead
How you beefin', you don't got no money?
Like, bitch, I really does this
No cap, I really run shit
I got the fetty, no 4100
Get to spinnin', bro told me I'm buggin'
PTSD, almost shot him for nothin'
I get active, I don't gotta mention the shit that I do
Spend a couple of bands on my jeans
Like, I don't gotta say what I spent on the shoes
Don't got experience
Little boy do not know what to do, (Boom) like
Bitch on timin', not bringin' no mop
Bitch, I'm bringin' my broom
Like, bitch, who you?
MB what? **** better not say that
Throwin' bread on my head
If get to him first like I bet he won't pay that
Bro put the dot on hisโ
Like, can't leave my G my waist where it stay at
I'm on the side of hisโ
I'm on the side of the place where he lay at (Word to bro)
B-Lovee keep dissin' my name (Come here)
Where was he at when I went to the Courts?
Brandon Hendricks got his own street
**** died on a drill for not stickin' the ball
Like, too hot, I don't get near the law
Soon as they see me, they get on my balls
Bro-brodie buggin' like he tryna catch one (Come here)
Like, tryna send him to the lord
Back out my gun like I don't got a sword
Get in my stance, my two feet on the floor
Like, I'm tryna score
Free brodie 5ive, he took it on that call
I'm tryna get him, I think he lost
Threw up his hands, he thinkin' that I'm soft
I bet the .40 make a **** cough
Shot through his body, coughin' up his organs
Like, G2 too important
I know a blazer who 'ootin' like he Jordan
Bend through that block, was lurkin' in a foreign (Word to bro)
Found me a thot, started spinnin' wit' Jenna
Finger on trigger, they start kissin'
I was sixteen, sat on that block tryna make me a pack
It was just my ambition (Word to bro)
Only want problems, we start spinnin'
Five in the chop, and I call it my Smith
Extended the clip, don't do the beam
'Cause he ain't gettin' far, word to bro I get wit' him
Bro, I think they know who hit him
Why my gun started movin' like Hitler?
I-I got my G, I think it's racist
'Cause it's tryna let off at every ****
How you beefin', you don't got no money?
Like, bitch, I really does this
No cap, I really run shit
I got the fetty, no 4100
Get to spinnin', bro told me I'm buggin'
PTSD, almost shot him for nothin'
Grrah
Grrah, grrah, boom
Come here