Hey
Yeah (I'm bangin' red, but my beat came from Bloublood)
Goddamn, I still ain't even tired, man
(Ayy, pull up, Lam)

Mask up, I won't ask half ya
I'm geeked up off this tab, yeah, I'ma ride past ya
Cracked the face and threw the Audemars in the trash, yeah
Yeah, fuck the cops, fuck the fucking gang ties, yeah (let's go)
You know we banging, hanging, banging, hanging
Banging, hanging, banging, hanging
Banging, hanging, banging, hanging
Banging, hanging, banging, you know we banging

What you banging? Are you cuz? (What's popping?)
What's your GD, OGF? (Whoa, whoa, whoa)
These niggas be real jakes, yeah, they dubs (dubs)
I said too good, trust they troops, know it's love
We hit you spinning out, we had a big night
This ain't raindrops, these some gun shots
Popped his whole top (woo)
Yeah, that air be the land in that Glad pot
Say you tryna corner me in like UPS box (never)
On my partner, they get bloody (bloody)
And I go 730 'bout me (730)
Shoot the target like a gun range (baow, brr)
Nobody telling, yeah, just watch the birdies sing

Mask up, I won't ask half ya
I'm geeked up off this tab, yeah, I'ma ride past ya
Cracked the face and threw the Audemars in the trash, yeah
Yeah, fuck the cops, fuck the fucking gang ties, yeah (let's go)
You know we banging, hanging, banging, hanging
Banging, hanging, banging, hanging
Banging, hanging, banging, hanging
Banging, hanging, banging, you know we banging

Copyright: Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Writer(s): Isaiah Gavin Blouir, John Lam, Raqhid Render