(SephGotTheWaves)
(Vicasso on another one)

Down bad he feeling like ain't no one around to
Ain't one of my partna dem then, nigga, fuck you
Ain't riding with him then I probably got that Glizzy glue
Send one of your lil' steppers to get knocked up out his shoes
Send one of your lil' steppers to get put up on the news
Toting big .40's that make you sing like you need autotune
Call the cleaning crew, pull up with mop sticks and have the broom
Call the cleaning crew, broad day, whatever he gon' leave you

It's easy to touch a nigga when you playing with them bands
Type of money I could get you wacked, uh, by ya man
Type of money make me know why mama nem say don't trust your friend
'Cause these niggas be dead wrong and just gon' cross you in the end
Keep ya lil' hand out, don't worry 'bout Jack, he gon' be alright
Fuck the pilot, baby, I'm the flyest on this private flight
Rockin' Off-White, thank the Lord no more off nights
I tote big pipes, sorry mom I like gun fights
RIP 2Pac but like him we caught lil' one at the light
I can't speak on you and yours but me and mine gon' shoot on sight
Tell the lil' boy up the 30, it sound, uh uh, like a kite
All my niggas that be with me, don't care if I'm wrong, don't care if I'm right
All my niggas them they be violent, ran up stolo mileage
Spinnin', pullin' triggers 'til we catching arthritis
Better yet gon' catch us a body
Choppa got titties tryna get naughty
And I'm creeping late night with the zombies
Late night, you got caught in your pajamas

Down bad he feeling like ain't no one around to
Ain't one of my partna dem then, nigga, fuck you
Ain't riding with him then I probably got that Glizzy glue
Send one of your lil' steppers to get knocked up out his shoes
Send one of your lil' steppers to get put up on the news
Toting big .40's that make you sing like you need autotune
Call the cleaning crew, pull up with mop sticks and have the broom
Call the cleaning crew, broad day, whatever he gon' leave you

'Fore he even much started he knew he was gon' win
Lil' bad ass jit walk around with no shoes, finally ran up all them bands
Bad ass jit used to walk with no shoes, look how niggas envy him
Fucked around and jumped on Protools now these bitches jump on him
Selling sand, there was plenty sand, I just play with grams
Give a damn about what you saying, I'ma let it blam
Let it blam, make you disappear, a la ka kazzam
Boy go ham, that is not your fam, left you in a jam
Free Jaray, she was right here with me doing day for day
Don't talk to you but every other month, so son make sure you straight
Real nigga, he step to the plate gon' make something shake
Real nigga, he grind for them racks then got out the way

Down bad he feeling like ain't no one around to
Ain't one of my partna dem then, nigga, fuck you
Ain't riding with him then I probably got that Glizzy glue
Send one of your lil' steppers to get knocked up out his shoes
Send one of your lil' steppers to get put up on the news
Toting big .40's that make you sing like you need autotune
Call the cleaning crew, pull up with mop sticks and have the broom
Call the cleaning crew, broad day, whatever he gon' leave you

Copyright: CONCORD MUSIC PUBLISHING LLC, EMPIRE PUBLISHING, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Writer(s): Joseph Boyden, Pierre DeLince, Victor Todd