[Peanut da Don:]
Your crew ain’t no k**ers, your hittas ain’t hit sh**
What’s your body count n***a, y’all n***as don’t live that sh**
All these extended clips,
[?] sick dicks
Every n***a made my hit list, got scratched off like quick pick
You’re not a gangsta, you’re a crook
Put down a gun, get a book
You’re just a diamond with some fire, that’s why your shooting don’t look
Smile soldier, no train
Then IKEA get hit
s**er living in the rep, that’s why your wig get split
They say they some shooters, I don’t believe these n***as
They say they some hittas, well I don’t need these hittas
[Trae tha Truth:]
Nah, I don’t need these hittas, they gon’ turned me into a k**er
Tryna flush ’em like a sh**ter, fire comin’ through your pillow
Bet I make a n***a quit, 150 in the stick
I’m just tryna get ya fixed, put this all up in ya mix
Anywhere I go I’m piped down, play with tha Truth and get wiped down
If I go to beef and I bite down, pull up on ya black out like it’s lights down
Ski mask and a driver, gun checkin’ for a coast
Let them youngins go to work, they just here to get ya
[?]
Why you playin’ with a boss, you ain’t graduate the corner
Keep it movin’ in a new whip, truck’ll beat you to a coma
Get your b**h cause I was on her, head shot now she a domer
When I’m done I’m getting lost, sorry for you I’m a loner
I don’t care bout ’em I finesse ’em, every diamond on me random
Gang flier then a jet, I just need a place to land’ em
[Young Dro:]
I got a stick, let it hit
I’m finna talk my sh**
Run up on me get brrr
Hoes all in your fit
[Trae tha Truth:]
Run up on me get hit
Let me talk my sh**
Bet I talk with the stick
I ain’t tryna hear sh**
[Young Dro:]
Air it out to my man con, I’ma shoot y’all and some
When I pull up with a stick, we gon’ hold you for ransom
My gun shaking, hold me
Like
[?] I got a nose bleed
Bukub**bukub**booboomboom
Like Pac n***a, you can’t hold me
Tryna turn up on me, get shot in the mouth
We ain’t playing b**h, not in the South
I k** ya outside, and not in the house
I got respect for your momma, but not your spouse
I tie that b**h up and rape her too
b**h show me the bricks, the boy got an account
Twenty two in ya stomach, and b**h runnin’ a leg
Keep squirming around and get one in the head
Boy I’m gon’ out you, I don’t nothing ’bout you
It’s Hustle Gang, you don’t care bout who?
Bout to pull quick, cause y’all ain’t doin’ sh**
I load the machine gun up out you
Brrrr brr brr brr pa pa pa, ya feel me
[Young Dro:]
I got a stick, let it hit
I’m finna talk my sh**
Run up on me get brrr
Hoes all in your fit
[Trae tha Truth:]
Run up on me get hit
Let me talk my sh**
Bet I talk with the stick
I ain’t tryna hear sh**
[Young Dro:]
I got a stick, let it hit
I’m finna talk my sh**
Run up on me get brrr
Hoes all in your fit
[Trae tha Truth:]
Run up on me get hit
Let me talk my sh**
Bet I talk with the stick
I ain’t tryna hear sh**