Lyrics: Channing Nicole Larry/Rodney Marcellus Rozier Jr./Lontrell Williams/Elijah Best
Music: Channing Nicole Larry/Rodney Marcellus Rozier Jr./Lontrell Williams/Elijah Best
Yeah uh
Yeah yeah
Ayy
Trappin' ain't dead these
niggas just scared yeah
They turn they run to the feds god
She say open your eyes I'm like lil' bitch I'm high
Can't you tell that i'm full of therm meds on God
We are down on the scoreboard you gotta forfeit
All of yo'niggas is dead
Come get your ho back that p sexy throwback
Blow me up hit me l leave 'em on read blaow
I'll **** on your bitch I don't lay up
I'm rollin' on x just to stay up ayy
Skinny bitch but you see that my weight up
Tryna **** you right now
I won't wait up on God
***** I'm blowed I been runnin
That cake up uh huh
Might speak it to 'em I don't say much
***** I'm myp still I don't play much
Titties on the glock these are no
A cups uh huh woah
They know ain't no ho in my blood
My dad ain't yo uncle so l ain't yo''cuz
Ayy you know the old me so don't approach me
nigga this ain't what it was
They mad that I done run my sack up
Racks up earned it this shit out the mud
'Cross me and I gotta yet payback
No you can't pay that I want it in blood on God
Free hank til my brother come home
My fellas stay grippin' that chrome uh
Bitches sellin their cat 1 sell songs
Done ran up that sack on my phone
I cannot make this shit up
Boy yo'a*s limp can't yet up
Do this shit for my mama can't give up
Free Hank, niggas fake crop their ass out the picture
Ayy ayy
I be full of that juice like a pitcher uh
You a opp now it ain't nothin with ya
Yeah it's all from the gang so we get up look
Ain't no competition so just yive up
Yo' lil' girlfriond go down and she eat up
Bad lil' bitch with a magazine no Pages yeah yeah
You lil' nigga s be broke makin' no wages
Bitches go talk to God if you need savin' dyy big brr
Tote the chop with the box got cable
Tried to run up now he disabled can't walk
Drop a body ent my label co sign
If l ain't do it myself 1 paid him on God
Every yun yot a drum and a laser and a scope
Yo'shooter ain't shit just trade 'em gotta go
He got hit up close cremate 'em brr
nigga won't tote drac til l made
Him brr brr on God yeah yeah
Fn on the stove when l cook up l cook up
Hundred deep at the show when
They book up
Gave him two to the chest can't sit up brr
I told chant keep shootin' might get up brr brr
If you with me ain't no in the middle no
Dod couldn't get to the spitter can't see in the dark
Fou's want three four killers brr
After this four l'ma need a new liver let's go
Hit the club out of my body and ain't
Worry 'bout it cause
I brought them killers in here
I ain't with all of that talkin'as soon
As you start it I bet I'ma finish it here
Whole lotta water on me diamonds
Dancin' like the harlem shake
With a nigga tank on e if they gas
'Em we gon' off his face
My shooter one call away this shit
Get ruthless goin hard no play
We ballin' all the way and we din't hoopin'
Stand up nigga I'm a lion like lucious stupid
If you think i'm lovin' these groupies use it
If you say you packin' your toolie losin'
nigga that's somethin'l aint doin