(Oh no, no, oh, no, no, oh, no, no)
Haha, cut the music up please
(Oh no, no, oh, no, no, oh, no, no)
Hahaha, yeah

I play the bullshit from the backseat, champ
Yeah, I’m in the backseat, still got the seat back
Feet back, stay from where the fake be at
Niggas snitch for the shine, where the patience at?
Nigga make his own brother face his back
Give love, then take it back
Good grief, man, this world is quite heavy on my aching back
Cops killing for crack, you know the story, snakes eat rats
Face the facts, you can’t change him
Can’t shoot it if you can’t aim it
Can’t miss him, if he kill you, then you can’t blame him
That’s just how the dice roll when you can’t fade ’em
Get too deep up in that water and they can’t save you
Me, I come out of that water like I was just bathing
And watch my step on the wet pavement, yeah
I’m from the hood, so I rep ’em where I can’t take ’em
“Hollygrove, Hollygrove,” was his last statement
So nigga, get that look off your face
And recognize you got a crook in the place
They call me W-E-E-crooked letter-Y, I’m so high
I skeet-skeet in any nigga dime like she’s mine
Street-sweeper in the back of the hatch, make me pop the latch
Leave you bloody with the cops to match
Bullet holes in your speakers from the chopper blast
Like, haha, ah
That’s bullet holes in your sneakers, got you hopping back
It all stop when they hit you in your top and back
No cocking back, silly motherfucker, you ain’t heard ’bout this
The clips hang down to the dick
That’s an automatic shotty from a drum they call “Tommy”
Guaranteed to get you bitches from by me
When I hit every piece of your visible body, he leaking
Mortimer is no longer leaping, he’s sleeping
While you pussy niggas is sleeping, I’m thinking
Deep in thought, the boy ain’t even winking
Bob Marley got me stinking
Stacking figures, I’m standing firm, life’s a Slinky
Pipes is filled with crack cocaine
And the dope go inside of the veins
From where I came
Though I bear a name only one can live with
Coach, they won’t knock me off my pivot, forget it
I’m sicker with it, pick a city, buy a condo
Find a fine ho, let some time go, chill
What you know about a bongo having her mind go
Over a convo about dough? Nothing
Man, the four-wheelers look so good on the sand
Tee or tank top, pocket fan
No pocketknife, no handgun in sight
Just that rat-tat, tat, tat-tat-t-tat-tat, boom
Haha, tonight, I might just boost my feature price
‘Cause to each his own, and the lights is bright
And I’m feeling like Mike at a Tyson fight
I’m from Cita house, Big Mama’s house
She told me to shoot you right after I knock you out
And he ain’t getting up after them shots if you hit him in the right spot
Hold up, the beat might drop

(Oh no, no, oh, no, no, oh, no, no)
(Oh no, no, oh, no, no, oh, no, no)