Yeah, yeah (Uh, uh)
Yeah, yeah (Uh)
Who got the ups on us? (Who got ups on us?)
Strap across your shirt, like, nigga, buckle up (Helluva made this beat, baby)
You can’t miss, I send you on that hit, might die, you fuck it up
Clip hold got like T trimmers, real street nigga, my money up
Wave this bitch like, “Hey, what’s up?”
Soon as fat boy get close enough
Niggas don’t want bump, they punks, on IG, hope I post ’em up
I talk to them bodies late at night when I be rollin’ up
They know it’s us
Gone with all that flaggin’, bitch, you braggin’, now I choke on bruh
.40, that’s the caliber, the magazine is seventeen
I got this from Medellín, eighteen timеs thirty-three
I hope he ain’t sellin’ drеams, might go back to mailin’ ki’s
I don’t want no good bitch, make Dugg bitch a felon, please
My wrist methamphetamine, you know this that ice talk
Hop out on foot, let pipe off, yellow tape, white chalk
OT, gettin’ this ice off
Four hundred mails, every country town around, we beat it down
Used to bag up pieces, sittin’ up east listenin’ to “Wipe Me Down”
I know they don’t like me now, your brother, sister, cousin
Feds ever hit the house, put my shit in the oven
They get cheaper by the dozen
Roster grew to a monster
We blow them choppers, bitch
I don’t know my alphabets
Tell me, what come after rich?
Play with us, we whackin’ shit, claimin’ shit, and stampin’ shit
Fuck y’all (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
These niggas don’t want beef with us, they IG killers
We bendin’ blocks in three rentals, I don’t see niggas
Keep drillin’, bitch, we breed killers
We elite spinners
Big shiner, keep his heat with him, eat and sleep with it
Wake up, bitch won’t fuck the youngin from the front, go get that makeup
To make sure all my niggas had a piece, I took a pay cut
Ho gon’ put this ‘partment in her name, you need some pay stubs
I’m crankin’ my fake drugs, four-hundred in eight months
Ten with me like eight stuffed
The driver like my idol, that’s the only bitch I can’t touch
These niggas is not me, these niggas is not Gee
Got blow pack, got roxys
Got weed stems and boxed gin, I’m top ten
Yeah, go catch one and get locked in
Got out of line and get knocked in
In my city, I’m top ten
Number one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine
With a white boy snortin’ H lines
In the side county, niggas can’t find
With a .45 on my waistline
Like fuck niggas, I’m lit now
Crossed over, I’m big slime
I’m still slidin’, I’m rich now
Everybody gotta pick sides
Took a risk to hold up my wrist high
My lil’ brother took six lives
He a lil’ nigga but look 6’5″
Can the opps say they didn’t hide?
Yeah
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