(RJ always trippin', man, RJ always trippin')
If you set trippin', why you in Chiraq on Lil' Steve?
He gon' take you to the East to meet Skuba Steve, fuck you mean?
Put him on his fuckin' knees, bust his head
Know I'm on a bunch of lean, huh, bunch of red
Huh, huh, on Lil' Steve
On gang
Ayy, hold up

Deebo Lotti, he ain't got no bodies, them boys ain't slidin'
He ain't 'bout it, he won't hurt nobody, plus that boy ain't solid
You know I got it, make me up this chopper, show you how we rocking
He see my beard, make that boy step back, Skuba ain't no Rocket
Jab step, make that nigga buckle, they gon' think we hooping
Got this Draco from my custo uncle, he don't even use it
He done sold it to the right young nigga, you, know I'ma shoot it
Get to pressin' niggas, 'timidatin' niggas with this music
Get to stretching niggas, 'capitating niggas with this Uzi
You stuck your neck out for the wrong niggas, now you 'bout to lose it
Now you half-dead, now you bleeding out, you losin' fluid
I got twin choppers, look like Bin Laden, they congruent
If they send Sada, I'ma end oppers with this Ruger
You a cock-blocker, your bitch dick suckin', how you do it?
You be actin' out, you know them clips around, this ain't no movie
You a lame ass, broke, plain dressing ass goofy
Still got on drip when I load my shit, I just bought a brick
I'm talking shit, I'm a walking lick, still I'll off a bitch
I'm off them grits and on Percocets, they say that don't mix
But I'm legit, I'll plead the Fifth and shoot you with the six

Load your strap, then put one up top, you know we gon' ride
Babe, ain't no cap, she know that I'm that, look me in my eyes
Told him relax, we don't beef on wax, I'll see you outside
You showed your hand, you need to quit playin', we all know you lied (Von)

Now be for real, you ain't tryna drill, boy, you ain't tryna kill
You off that pill, it got you actin' tough, but that ain't how you is
I'm that for real and I'm worth a mil' and still get on your heels
He live right where? Now I'm in the car parked outside his crib
He got a pole, but that's just for show, I know he a hoe
He ain't gon' blow, bitch, I was tryna score when I was on parole
He got a pole, but that's just for show, I know he a hoe
He ain't gon' blow, bitch, I was tryna score when I was on parole
That boy a bitch, he shoot out the whip, nah, he ain't really slidin'
They always miss, just running they lips, that's why they keep on dyin'
Just hit they block, I'm talking twenty times, man, these niggas hiding
I caught the play and now I'm throwing bullets, I'm thinking it's Madden
I got his lo', can't be moving slow, he right by the store
He got a fro with a Pelle coat, plus he with a hoe
He on his phone, once I'm on your ass, boy, you on your own
I get 'em gone, it happened so fast, all he heard was boom
I'm from the WICC, I know I'm the shit, bitch, get off my dick
I never miss, they think that I'm cheatin', my gun got a glitch
I mean a switch, I can shoot a brick and they still say I hit
I mean they hit, they caught that nigga Brick and hit him in his shit

Load your strap, then put one up top, you know we gon' ride (King Von)
Babe, ain't no cap, she know that I'm that, look me in my eyes
Told him relax, we don't beef on wax, I'll see you outside (King Von)
You showed your hand, you need to quit playin', we all know you lied
Load your strap, then put one up top, you know we gon' ride
Babe, ain't no cap, she know that I'm that, look me in my eyes
Told him relax, we don't beef on wax, I'll see you outside
You showed your hand, you need to quit playin', we all know you lied, hmm

Copyright: Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Ultra Tunes
Writer(s): Casada Aaron Sorrell, Dayvon Bennett