(KJ, what you got goin' on man?)
Let's go, let's go, yeah
Back of the Phantom to get me some head
Ain't got no purple? Then get me some red (yeah, woo)
(Young Nick Papz, make it slap)

Nigga know I back out every time the pack out, big boy straighten offenders (what?)
I was in the trap house chillin' with the Mac out
Gang-gang, me and my members (gang-gang)
Nigga, we ain't totin' no sticks 'round here
Just glicks 'round here with extenders (big boy)
Nigga, don't take no pics 'round here, everybody on parole, shit sensitive (yeah)
I had the check, fell in love with it
I got the neck for the hell of it
Money, respect, get a Cullinan
Come down a lil' block like a elephant
I got the lil' Glock with the drum in it (yeah)
We the ones, they the ones crackin'
Now forty-five-hundred my jacket
They say I'm too rich to be strappin', yeah, ooh (brrt)
Suicide doors on the Phantom, it look like you get in it backwards
Double platinum, that's a double murder when we slide, I just put a hit on a rapper
Sneak dissin', 'fore you know it, you talkin' to God
And he tell you get in the casket (nigga, get over there)
Stack up the M's and spend all the odds, we takin' this shit to the maximum, yeah

Must be out of your mind, you think we ain't spinnin' for bro? We spinnin' for sure
Had a switch on me, not a .38, dummy, boy, we be spinnin' for ghosts
They put up for show, we spin in the cribs and traps fasho, we spinnin' his shows
And we took L's fasho, but in Chicago, they know we winnin' fasho
You do it for what? You better not say that you do it for (boom), them niggas be talk
That nigga was fucked, the moment he ran and he knew he ain't duckin', his ass out of luck
We do it for Von, we don't wait 'til it die down, we load and we do it tomorrow
We do it on feet, ask all the opps about us or who say we shoot out the cars
That Rolls better be bulletproof, lil' nigga, you know we gon' shoot at them stars
Them lil' bitches ours, I told him to fuck her and slut her and send her right back to the blogs
Glock with a switch, two of those when I ride through the city (when we ride)
And we thought a nigga died, but he didn't (but he died)
Two Glocks when you ride through Philly (let's get it)
Ten and up if you dyin' in Philly
(And you know we slide to Philly)
(Ten and up if you dyin' in Philly)
(Ten and up if you dyin' in Philly)

(Yeah, Baby)
Anythin' close to a dub
And a youngin'll walk for a hundred, he down to get caught
Long as I send him the items, consider it bought
I call the shots, I'm the boss
I'm ridin' with a semi
Two of them, I can't die in my city
Do a shootin', it ain't gotta be pretty
Catch him out, and we handle the business
I ain't gettin' in no nigga business
Thirty million, my mind in the trenches still
Fuck her good, make her nigga not turn her on
They got brodie on camera, he comin' home
Run it up from a scale to a microphone
Treat Dior like a muhfuckin' Nike store
And you know he ain't that, why you hype him up?
Any time we have smoke, it just pipe me up
Never know the outcome 'til you try your luck
Get whatever you want when I'm tryna fuck
And we chillin', nobody can't fuck with us
Put the four in the P with the fuckin' M
I should never bring the pain on my fuckin' self
Really need it if I ever ask for help
I just know I'ma blow if it's life or death
I made all them hoes who ain't never left
I'm way higher, I'm up in my altitude
I was broke, I woke up with an attitude
Now you play with the kid, he embarrass you
I jump right in the field with no parachute and one pair of shoes

Copyright: Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Writer(s): Dominique Jones, Durk Banks, Nikolas J Papamitrou, Robert Rihmeek Williams