[Hook: Pumpkinhead]
Hit the floor, keep moving (What?)
Bump this in your ride—it's that jeep music (Oh aight)
All my thugs in the club, smoke your weed to it
You paid for that sh**? n***a, we boost it (Tango and cash)
Brooklyn gon' run through it (BK)
You know we get down when it come to it (No doubt)
All my real shorties come thug to it (Come on, come on)
So when we spit rounds, you better run, stupid (Tango and cash)
[Verse 1: Pumpkinhead]
I got a lot to do and little time to do it
Those who try to stop me'll swimming in they body fluids
It's BK, b**h. Brooklyn Ac' is the unit
Got no love—for chumps, I'll rip the wings off of cupid
Fully strapped bully raps push your hoodie back
You rookie cats. Try to f** with me, get your cookie cracked
React. I'll swim a hundred laps around the Hudson, busting—bust your gats
You falling off but, this time, you ain't coming back
I spit four hundred years until my lungs collapse
I'll spit ‘til my mouth is dry and my tongue is black
Break [you calm?] like a running back
Brooklyn n***as be thugging tracks—you see a hundred flags from one attack
[Hook: Pumpkinhead]
Hit the floor, keep moving (What?)
Bump this in your ride—it's that jeep music (Oh aight)
All my thugs in the club, smoke your weed to it
You paid for that sh**? n***a, we boost it (Tango and cash)
Brooklyn gon' run through it (BK)
You know we get down when it come to it (No doubt)
All my real shorties come thug to it (Come on, come on)
So when we spit rounds, you better run, stupid (Tango and cash)
[Verse 2: Pumpkinhead]
Me and Will, we like tango and cash
‘Cause we the type of n***as that make angels get mad
I'm hanging your staff on flagposts
You a tadpole, little n***a
A little liquor got you feeling bigger
But you put on pause
My guns is like menopause, bloody your drawers, blood on the door
Breaking your jaw, put your face through the floor. We taking it all
Titles and plaques. You bite me, I'm biting you back
Homicidal raps make the Bible crack
Blow up vital stats ‘til the line is flat
Take your skullcap and fly it back
My n***as get high on this track
All my b**hes in the club, run your thighs to this track
All y'all n***as that be hating gonna die to this track
I'll spit thirty G's on a track, the price of a Ac'
Blunted Soldiers for life—ain't nothing f**ing with that
And that's more than real, n***a—just look at my tat
[Hook: Pumpkinhead]
Hit the floor, keep moving (What?)
Bump this in your ride—it's that jeep music (Oh aight)
All my thugs in the club, smoke your weed to it
You paid for that sh**? n***a, we boost it (Tango and cash)
Brooklyn gon' run through it (BK)
You know we get down when it come to it (No doubt)
All my real shorties come thug to it (Come on, come on)
So when we spit rounds, you better run, stupid (Tango and cash)
[Outro: Pumpkinhead]
Yeah. Pumpkinhead, Will Tell. Another one. We adding on and we ain't stopping, you heard? Yeah. We out like that. O.B.S., Brooklyn Ac'