[Verse 1: Yella Beezy]
Who the fuck these n***as talkin' shit?
N***a talkin' like I ain't from the Cliff or somethin'
Like a young n***a won't send a hit or somethin'
Like I won't feed dick to your bitch or somethin'
Young n***a it's EA Sports, yeah it's all in the game
Fuck around and get blitzed or somethin'
N***a gotta know I ain't really with the bumpin'
N***a get to bumpin' we gon' get to dumpin'

[Verse 2: Trapboy Freddy]
N***a be talkin' about all this rap shit like a n***a won't flip a brick or somethin'
Tuck your chain, you a lick or somethin'
Real murderers, come look us up
I ain't with none of that rap shit, and I don't care who the hottest
And I don't talk about murders when I rap 'cause we be really catchin' bodies

[Verse 3: Yella Beezy]
N***a swear to God never rode a Harley but I swear young n***a I keep a chopper
N***a walk through with a loaded AK with an infra beam, about three binoculars
I do the money dance and you a funny man, keep talkin', lil boy you gon' need a doctor
One of my people gon' sleep his partner
Old sixty ass n***a got to people watchin'

[Verse 4: Trapboy Freddy]
Four of Hi-Tech in the baby bottle
Broke in my house but my neighbor popped him
What you say? speak louder n***a
Hey, I got on hater blockers
No I do not hear no haters talkin'
Balenciaga when a n***a walkin'
I been runnin' shit since a youngin bitch
Now that money got a n***a joggin'
[Verse 5: Yella Beezy]
Hey, I don't hear haters talkin'
Small brown n***a, I'll tater tot you
Got an FN, aim at your tater partner
Ain't none of my guns got safety partner
Got a young n***a kill somethin' for eighty dollars
Hop in that water, no safety goggles
They'll kidnap the kids and rape his mama
I swear my n***as they takin' somethin'

[Verse 6: Trapboy Freddy]
Ain't cuffin' no bitch, ain't no Ferragamo
Shootin', no stoppin', don't spare his mama
I got a play on a hundred bales
You get nothin', call it show and tell
We was young, tryna sell them L's
I ain't even know how to work the scale
I sell them bricks by the O's
Still got my wrist in the bowl

[Verse 7: Yella Beezy]
Can't mix in the Cliff without us
N***a fuck around, get touched, ayy
Load up the clip and then bust, ayy
Feelin' some adrenaline rush, ayy
Big bullets flip over trucks, ayy
Bitch let me get in them guts, ayy
Coolin', just sippin' my cup
Tell me if you feel me or what
[Verse 8: Trapboy Freddy]
I'm in the Cliff eatin' chicken
My favorite spot is the kitchen
I drop a bag, get you missin'
I ain't with fake shit period
I got an F&N with a scope
Red dot like a period
Thirty shot hangin' up out of the Glock
Put a hole in you like cereal

[Verse 9: Yella Beezy]
You n***as is pussy like period
Can't fuck with you ho n***as period
Bought three hundred thousand in jewelry
Don't me a stylist, bitch clearly
Don't like when people talk n***a when I talk
So you pussies gotta hear me
I'ma spaz out, yeah surely, ayy
Fake boys can't stand near me

[Verse 10: Trapboy Freddy & Yella Beezy]
Who run the city, be serious
Me and you, get serious
Still will put a P in a syrup
N***a crackin' out without a deal
Yella I heard they was lookin' for you
Shit where they at n***a? I ain't runnin'
I just seen 'em on the 'Gram, post a location
Wait, I'm finna send it to you
I ain't trippin', n***as always slippin'
Swear to God they some silly somethin'
Give my lil homie a couple hundreds
He a demon, they can't hide from him
We been ridin' Friday from Friday
Swear to God they hidin' from us
[Outro: Trapboy Freddy]
Man where the fuck is you at n***a?
Let's get it, Trap
Wrist up in the bowl shit
That's on me baby
O Cliff band man, tellin' these band n***as who run it
What's poppin', yeah, yeah