Lyrics: Charles Davis
Music: Trevion Turner
Hmm, hmm
Ain't no ones in this, nigga, this shit fifty-ifties, nigga
This shit is a true story
Uh, late night, bappin' with foenem, ridin' down Lake Shore, talkin' 'bout touchin' a milli'
These niggas ain't really on shit, foenem bail out blickin' and leave a fat boy brain empty (rrah-rrah-rrah)
Uh, we steppin' on shit in the trenches for real, wanna learn how to kill, get me with me
I got a big heart for them switches for real, but I get off dumpin' the semi (brr)
Leave a **** nigga brain on the dashboard, uh, skrrt, bah, headshot, he asked for it (come here)
We ain't really a fan of the internet shit, when we catch him in person, tag-toe him
I'm feelin' like Lil Tunechi in six, Smurk say, "Duffle bag boys"
We'll walk his ass back in the crib, "Get the **** on the ground, where the **** that cash, boy?" (Come here, get down)
I'm knee-deep in the trenches, **** niggas ain't standin' on business for real
These stupid-ass niggas ain't listened, I told 'em I was gon' be rich, then I signed my deal
Now everybody act weird, blood don't mean shit, niggas still get popped like pills
If I call right now, go score, ridin' with four chops, right now, we the real navy seals
Hundred racks in my bookbag, dolo as ****, boy, tweak, I'm itchin' to kill
These niggas only tough on social sites, niggas don't really be tweakin' with tweakers for real (gang)
I'm really a tweaker for real, catch an opp out in Bali and throw him off a hill
Niggas in the 'Raq be **** tough, bloodbathh OT in Bali, ****in' thots on a hill (gang)
We'll leave a nigga brain in the dirt, gettin' high in the spot, that's just how we live
These tough-ass niggas don't really be gangster, these niggas be bitched out, actin' like pigs
This shit ain't 'bout nothin' (nothin'), stackin' up bodies just like John Wick (bodies, bodies, bodies, bodies)
They know how the **** we rockin', bath, bath, bath
Late night, bappin' with foenem, ridin' down Lake Shore, talkin' 'bout touchin' a milli'
These niggas ain't really on shit, foenem bail out blickin' and leave a fat boy brain empty (rrr)
Uh, we steppin' on shit in the trenches for real, wanna learn how to kill, get me with me (with me)
I got a big heart for them switches for real, but I get off dumpin' the semi
Leave a **** nigga brain on the dashboard, uh, skrrt, bah, headshot, he asked for it
We ain't really a fan of the internet shit, when we catch him in person, tag-toe him
I'm feelin' like Lil Tunechi in six, Smurk say, "Duffle bag boys"
We'll walk his ass back in the crib, "Get the **** on the ground, where the **** that cash, boy?" (Get the **** down)
Hmm-hmm, hmm-hmm