[Verse 1: Vince Staples]
Lights dimming, n***as living off the thought of killing
Black out, only shine as the revolver hitting
Can't bring the homies around, they start to plot on n***as
And then I gotta fix it, Mr. Mechanic
That automatic is nothing pretty, it take the smile off n***as
Let em run a couple miles, I'll hit 'em
If not, I bet his grandma get 'em, it's just a true story
Them shells sit like two stories, I aim well
I look at all your hate mail as fan mail
Writing shit down, well-knowing that you wouldn't say it
Why you go and buy a chopper if you couldn't spray it
Lil n***as breaking arms, tryna play Rambo
Give 'em what they signed for and never what they planned for
Aiming out the backdoor, cutthroat, n***as know it
[?] Anaheim, Long Beach, hammer time
North to the East, get down, n***a stand in line