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That boy J-Dolla go crazy
Hlk produced this beat
Stop cappin', I be with them gang bangers and them killers
Don't text my phone if it ain't 'bout skrilla
You could get shot, nigga, like a Triller
This Glock make him dance like he doing the Thriller
That boy is a fan, fucked his bitch in the villa
Try reach for his stick, don't, Bryson Tiller
Bustin' this Glock is my pain-killer
My Glock talk a lot, it don't got no filter
Chuck-E-Cheese, I'ma run up my tokens
Bum nigga, got a 5-vest and it's broken
Run up that sack, nigga, 'til I'm floatin'
I poured up a four right in front of the open
Sippin' and I'm all off of them potions
Money, I get it, I don't got time for loafin'
Shawty on me, boy, you know that she blowin'
[?] said this Glock leave him frozen
Yeah, this Glock leave him motherfuckin' frozen
Yeah, I shot that boy right in the open
Nigga try run up, uh
And nigga got sent up to the sky, to his guys, R.I.P
And it's basic, and I put yo' ho down like a basement
I don't want to play with that bitch, she not [?]
Don't want to roll up with you, I'm not facin'
I'm in her mouth, nigga, like some braces
You ain't even beef with the gang, you is playin'
I'm goin' hard like it's NBA Jam
[?] but I don't do scams
Need me a Birkin, all white bitch, man, like Suburban
You talkin' to gang, nigga, you ain't perfect
I got a thirty round, call up [?]
You wanna ride with the gang, you
I'm with yo' ho, man, like I'm swervin'
Swervin'
Be beef with the block, on
Hollow tip bullets, man, what's yo'
Pull up at night time, now he dead
Bitch, at they like, "Damn"
Smoking that gas, green eggs and ham
You a opp nigga, you ain't them
Walk outside, nigga, with a Lamb'
He stay inside, nigga, he a simp
My pockets they blue like R.I.P
You keep with the gang, you get killed