Nigga, fuck
Fuck, nigga
Fuck nigga
(Run it back, Playboi)

Raise the murder rate (raise it up)
Anytime a nigga play, we raise the murder rate (blaze up)
Broad day, let thirty shots off and we skrrt away
Park the car, don't drop off, I be front line when it pop off (uh, uh)
When it's crunch time, make it hot sauce (make it hot)
Homicide gon' tape his block off
Let the Glock off, knock your top off, ayy
Watch 'em fly away
Tryna stay up out them streets, I had to fly away (on God)
Mama pray I'm too deep in the streets to stop, I can't (I can't)
Really rich, I woke up, thought to buy that watch, I ain't (fuck)
I bank at five banks (five banks)
In my hood, I'm hall of fame
I'm on that nine rank
Changed the game, I'll show my niggas how to play, I got away
Still ain't put that fire away, you wanna die, just try today (come on)
My mind right, I'm flyin' straight
I probably walk away (uh)
Plus I know you niggas hoes, just act tough and talk away (pussy)
Eighteen, got sacked up and strapped up just off a play
And I ain't hidin', I'm in L.A., I'm in that Lamb', I'm at valet

Ayy, switch out the tags and the VIN 'cause I wanna spin again
Couple shots in the FN, the rest of 'em in his friend
Ain't enough money in this world that'll make me cross a friend (cross a friend)
Ain't enough loyalty in this world for you to comprehend (comprehend)
Freaky bitch, I beat her back until it bend and it break (bend and it break)
Gave me head up in the 'Cat, I put the police on the chase (police on the chase)
Came in her mouth, got away and still ain't ever hit the brakes
Asked her was she fine, she said her hair fucked up, but she okay (she good)
I'm as cutthroat as it get and I'm 'bout grimey as a ho (grimey as a ho)
Glizzy gotta match my fit or I ain't steppin' out the door (walkin' out)
Thirty shots, it wasn't enough, so I got fifty at the most
Scratch the serial up out this bitch, now both of y'all a ghost
Get my jewelry from Flawless Diamonds but my bitch go to Wafi
Might get a Urus on perfect timing just to say I bought it
Niggas weird, they slick dissin' on me and damn right, I caught it
A couple weeks later, we had his mama pickin' coffins
This that shit that have you goin' a hundred on the e-way
Stop the car, let me out, I left him layin' on the freeway
Got niggas shootin' behind and after me like it's a relay
Blow his candles at his candle light, call it a murder bday
Fuck the scoreboard, nigga, you can check the stat sheet
Run shit down like Sha'Carri in a track meet
Put 'em in the backseat, then kill 'em on the backstreet
Two shooters a tag team, his noodles on concrete
Nigga, business is what he standin' on
Bullets hit his back, tell 'em show it off like it's VLONE
Few things I don't play about money, and respect, and my jawns
You see me, might play around but I got bodies on my dome
Shot a nigga at fifteen, I never looked back since (never)
Slam a dunk a opp, my arm in the rim like I'm Vince (like Carter)
Purple bandana, purple outfit, Purple Rain like I'm Prince (Crip, Crip, Crip)
I'm a money-making nigga but I can't go out like Mitch (brrt, brrt, brrt)
I bet them bullets change the subject
Why you stop suckin' my dick, bitch? You seen I ain't nut yet (what the fuck?)
Niggas can talk all they want, I still ain't been touched yet (ain't been touched, nigga)
Brodie tell me chill, he know I kill, but nigga, fuck that (nigga, fuck that)
'Cause if I don't get 'em, they got me
If I don't fill 'em, they bodied, put 33 in them Scottie, no Pippen (brrt, brrt, brrt)
Them bullets hit 'em, inject him, we fill 'em like penicillin (penicillin)
We put niggas past the ceiling and the sky, giving God a visit (up there, up there, up there)
Murder, murder, kill it, kill it
Dirty .30, feel what's in it (what's in it)
For certain, I'm murkin' the person thinkin' that I ain't with it (that I ain't with it)
Close the curtain, hospital visits, we flat (come here)
Linin' them bitches, double back (come here, come here)
Nine of them niggas hit up his spine, now he Crippin'

Spine now he Crippin', nigga
Crip, nigga
NLE the Top Shotta, got the bombs like Al-Qaeda
Like what, man? I'll drop 'em
Man, I'll slaughter, nigga
These nigga know what we standin' on

Copyright: EMPIRE PUBLISHING, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Writer(s): Bryson Potts, Elijah Gull, Gorlov Lev Aleksandrovich, Herbert Randall Wright, Tiquon Pryor