Shit, uh-huh
Uh, feel it
Uh-huh, y'all gon' feel this
(Check this shit out)
Uh-huh, uh, uh-huh, uh, uh-huh, uh

If you hoped we wouldn't make it, fuck you (fuck you)
Talk with a heart full of hatred, fuck you (fuck you)
And you said we wouldn't cake it, fuck you (fuck you)
Only my man blood is sacred, cocksucker, fuck you
If you hoped we wouldn't make it, fuck you (fuck you)
Talk with a heart full of hatred, fuck you (fuck you)
And you said we wouldn't cake it, fuck you (fuck you)
Only my man blood is sacred, cocksucker, fuck you (uh)

Yo, yo, everybody's a snake (uh, uh-huh, yeah)
That's why I try to keep the grass cut
So I can see 'em when they comin' then I heat they ass up
'Cause' them niggas that you went to school with
Will catch you while you in your new whip
And turn your brains into Cool Whip
Niggas that you runnin' 'round gettin' ass with (uh, yeah)
Ain't gon' help you do nothin' but carry your casket
Got the nerve to ask Kiss why I smoke so much
And how I'm such a young nigga that seem to know so much
While you was runnin' round pumpin' for niggas, I was listenin'
You still pumpin' for niggas, I'm comin' through visitin'
You heard, L-O-X came through in a yellow Lex '
Then hopped out with the Air Force One's with yellow checks
And you liable to see me dolo, icin' the Rolo
Burner under the Polo, a lot of y'all is homos
Funny style niggas never down with me
Type that go to the bathroom, sit down and pee
I'll enter your house, back of your cribs, smackin' your kids
Bullets goin' through your leather, crackin' your ribs
Don't even hit me on my hip if I ain't give you a code
And I ain't got a home phone number, I live on the road
Now I'm gettin' bigger checks, conference calls with bigger 'xecs
Bigger bracelets with bigger begets
Fuck y'all

All I do is get high, and think of fadin' you all
Motherfuckers, hit 'cha knees and just pray to the Lord
I'd rather die today than live tomorrow
Then watch you crab motherfuckers just steal and borrow
Put in my work, you might get put in a church
Funeral time, everybody kissin' the corpse
Learn the ropes, don't riff if you soft, you pissin' me off
Call me S.P., and I spit on your boss
You can die cause this shit might happen to me
But I'ma still happen to be, packin' the three
Fuck with bitches that be wrappin' the keys
And the niggas that bug over drug money, clappin' the D
Shoot in the breeze, nine in the boot, full of trees
One in the mornin', catch me with a gun on the corner
Let you know it's all real and you can front if you want to (uh, uh)
Lie on the stand, fuck it dog, die in the can
I say you pussy, you won't die for your right-hand man (at all)
As well as your left, niggas trip, fell into death
They touch you, only thing else to say is fuck you

Ayy, yo, y'all niggas ain't hardcore, all my niggas is homicide
What you know about gettin' shot, lettin' the drip dry?
Lettin' the spit fly, seein' sparks whiz by
Puttin' the M.A.S.H. on niggas like Klinger and Hawk Eye
So soft you smushy, I blast 'til your shit is gushy
Should be the head Cat in the Broadway play, you pussy
Fuck with Sheek, Ouija board spell "Death" (uh)
You can talk that beef shit, I hope that deep shit
Be as deep as you inside the fuckin' cement
Or you can deep sea dive, with no scuba gear
I'll drown you with your snorkel on, bitch, breathe out of there
Whole team rich, never seen a summer like this
Bakin' hot, and you can sled ride down my wrist, neck, and hand
When it comes to coke, I can make a snowman shit
Play in this shit make a angel with it
And I don't give a fuck about that three-eighty that y'all share
Between the ten of y'all with the same eight bullets from last year
When I bust I use snubs, then I'm fleein' the spot
The hand I write with need a oven glove, my shit so hot
I want the most, Rollie only work when it's next to my post
Fuck a Presi' gimme a Yacht Master, regular bezzy
Then I'm good when I'm in the hood and I'm on the block
You got a gut feelin' about shit, nigga, that means you shot, what?

If you hoped we wouldn't make it, fuck you
Talk with a heart full of hatred, fuck you
And you said we wouldn't cake it, fuck you
Only my man's blood is sacred, cocksucker, fuck you
I'll tell you in your face, fuck you
Pull it off my waist, hit you up, fuck you
And watch you die on the street, fuck you
Whoever feel sad at the funeral, fuck them too

Copyright: Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Universal Music Publishing Group
Writer(s): Darrin Dean, David Styles, Jason T Phillips, Kasseem Dean, Sean D Jacobs