(Zaytoven)
This is not a diss, it's just the truth
Wop
Go

Middle of November (brr), it ain't even December (brr)
Nigga brought my name up, I guess they don't remember (brr)
Avondale to Canlabow to 'Crest to Allen Temple (huh?)
You play with Gucci Mane, I'm sendin' your ass to Donald Trump (damn)
I can still remember (yeah), I popped him like a pimple (ooh)
I read the autopsy, bullets went straight through his dimple (pew, pew)
My gunners, they got gunners, my runners, they got runners
I'm low-ballin' the number when I front him, please don't fumble (skrrt)
They say I was too thugged out, wouldn't let me meet Obama ('Bama)
They judge said I'm a problem, said it right in front of my mama (mama)
I'm thinkin' to myself, what would you have done, your honor? (Honor)
Pistol-whip that bitch who set me up out her pajama's (bitch)
Fuckin' mulinanes tried to test Gucci cajons (mula, yeah)
Last thing I heard that in the woods, that's a rumor
See, I'm the type that pull up too deep in a rental (skrrt)
Who wanna go to hell? 'Cause Gucci tryna send you

It's a lot of demons in my section, please remember (yeah)
If you ain't bustin' fire, then you can't be a member (go)
It's a lot of devils in my section, please remember
If you ain't got no bodies, then you can't be a member (Wop)

Copyright: Ultra Tunes
Writer(s): Radric Davis, Xavier Dotson