Shit, yeah
Yo, son
No fucking doubt, baby
Yeah, yeah, yeah
It’s real, it’s real
It’s real, it’s real
Yeah, let them niggas know
Yeah
Say QB
Everywhere that I go now
I keep that thing right with me
Is it because I live foul?
Shorty like blue piece coming
(I got bitches all on my back)
(I got niggas all in my face)
(It get serious it ain’t no game)
(So I got to keep that thing on my waist)
Which part of “no games” niggas don’t understand
You’re dealing with one-dead-serious-black-man
Whose first resort’s to squeeze, second thought to breath
Love this freedom so you know how I be
And why these niggas want to pull me in?
I ask myself that same question over and over again
It’s a small world my girl, I’m smashing a friend
Ain’t no love lost might as well join the fuck in
I’ve been telling niggas how my gangster get
You can trace it all the way back to The Infamous
When niggas out now was on infamil
Fuck a hotel nigga was fogging a windshield
Wrecking my first wheel they was barely bulking
Now this dun language is the motivation of their talking
A hate in my blood you won’t find one drop
But let a nigga stunt and he will get dropped, so
Yo, dun what up? scream at your dog
These niggas been wilding since niggas been gone
Fake niggas stunt like they really that strong
You really that bitch nigga, pussy, thongs
P’ that nigga that’ll break your jaw
You get jumped by a mobb of niggas for sure
You get cut, bucked and left for dead
We get fucked, sucked and extra bead
Partying with the ladies is crazy dic
Make you want to have babies and eat the fish
You won’t feel safe in the same place as us
We make niggas want to stay far away from us
We make bitches panties wet, they pray for us
Want to see a nigga live and be safe and such
We back with more of that Murda Muzik, bitch
My gun’ll bang on a nigga that confuse the shit
That thing is closer than blood and thicker than water
(You niggas is like fleas and the guns pluck ’em off, dun)
Scratch that itch then get rid of that bitch
(Then we mobb out with the sixes looking sickening)
That’s when beautiful whip we tearing the streets up
(We got the big stash box so we can fit the street-sweeper)
My duns keep it at any time it’s nothing
(You runnin’ ’round like you got a pass or something)
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