[Intro]
This shit off the top, man
(Hey, CR)
Like every other track, yeah
Yeah (Huh?)
(Free my dawgs)

[Chorus]
Yeah, D Boy
We makin' money, we coming where you stay
My brodie just freed, back in the drug game
Make money, can't catch us in your state
I'm a cold heart savage, yeah, n***a, I ain't having it
All on the block in the finest shit
Them youngins, they crazy, can't manage 'em (For real)
Don't start it if you cannot handle it (Nah)
And we them youngins who make shooting a habit, yeah
SouthWay (Grrt)
Wrap that boy up, we love gunplay (We love gunplay)
Posted, we post up by front gate
Hop out, seventeen straps, on front page
N***as, they bitch, call 9-11
One shot gon' send 'em to heaven (For real)
Stuck in my mind, wake up to kill
Was hungry, I needed a mil' (Needed mills)
[Verse]
And you wasn't there, this is real life (Real life)
Can't trust nobody, told me a hundred lies
(We live in the Jane, my lil' brodie can't think right)
Dived in real deep, I couldn't sit tight (Couldn't sit)
He lucky, he would've been died (Would've been)
Off two Percs so I had frog eyes (Had frog eyes)
He gon' get used to them news articles, ooh
Yeah, Southside
We ain't gon' sleep till the opps die ('Til the opps die)
I seen lot of pain in my dawg eyes (In my dawg eyes)
We go through some pain, but we alright (But we alright)
Yeah, this is the street life (Street life)
Yeah, Mama can't think right (Mama can't think)
Whole lotta funerals, not many graduations (For real)
Huh, you know where your bitch at (Come find her)
My dumbass gon' shoot if you switch sides
Swear to God, they give me bitch vibes
Nah, for real (Yeah, had to get it, had to get it)
Pots, dope, I'ma just cool in the kitchen (Cool in the kitchen)
Fat-ass lil' ho, she be doin' the dishes

[Chorus]
Yeah, D Boy
We makin' money, we coming where you stay
My brodie just freed, back in the drug game
Make money, can't catch us in your state
I'm a cold heart savage, yeah, n***a, I ain't having it
All on the block in the finest shit
Them youngins, they crazy, can't manage 'em (For real)
Don't start it if you cannot handle it (Nah)
And we them youngins who make shooting a habit, yeah
SouthWay (SouthWay)
Wrap that boy up, we love gunplay (We love gunplay)
Posted, we post up by front gate
Hop out, seventeen straps, on front page
N***as, they bitch, call 9-11
One shot gon' send 'em to heaven (For real)
Stuck in my mind, wake up to kill
Was hungry, I needed a mil' (Needed mills)