(Intro)
Fredo 2x in this bitch shorty, RIP my shottas
2016 summertime...

(Verse)
2016 summertime shootouts and them drive-by's
I don't regret shit took my bro Jrugz and it's been on since
We been on bags that's why these opp bitches on our dick
These shottas all lit, they catch em' slipping get em' gone quick
Ain't never been the type to throw the towel when it's smoke
I catch one outta' bounds and threw that n***a foul for my bro
No I don't wanna' drive I'd rather walk him down all alone
And if they in the crowd then Imma' clear the crowd on my own
Take mе back to junior we were postеd outside on them bikes
Never thought I'd see the day one of my shottas lose they life
Never thought I'd see the day I'd have to go and roll that dice
But it get real brodie, and I can't let you hop up in this vehi if you won't kill for me
Still rolling, tryna' catch a body cause' they won't do it
Still bending finger on the trigger I stay close to it
The day I die, don't wanna see you cry know what you feel for me
So I don't wanna' hear it, just prove to me that it's real brodie
Still love him, even on the days I feel the hate more
Sometimes a n***a need a hug sometimes need you to pray for him
But wait for him cause' everybody left him when he fell
Shit he was walking through a storm and somehow find himself in hell
(Interlude)
It's all facts Karma I can't tell a lie to you
On my mom gon' keep my slammer I don't plan on dying on you
Fuck what the streets say Ma' your shotta realer than em' all
You done really raised a legend promise Imma' make you proud

(Verse 2)
She say her baby boy official as they come without a doubt
Don't like it when I hit the hood so when I go I'm in and out
And the clip on the glizzy see-thru so I can see when I'm running out
And I plan on letting it out so as I'm blowing Imma' count
Send him to the lost and found
They won't be able to ID him
It's gon' be a genocide if they in traffic and we see em
Bitch we 4 deep, we got 4 slammas' we don't give a fuck about no cameras
We masked up try and act up and we do the dash can't catch us tryna' up the score on them once again and tell them fuck n***as come catch up on V🦇MONEY
This 17 got 34 you ain't gon' tweak with me
Turn him to a pack this n***a name gon' be a block
How they sleek we sliding creep don't care who's ready or who's not
We gon' keep smoking all these opps I make em' feel me every track
And no I can't afford to lack, Karma might stab me in my back
And I can't afford to lose my shottas every trip I'm gon' get back
Right or wrong they know I got em' that's on my big brodie Nat