[Intro: BBG Steppaa & John Martin]
Don't you worry, don't you worry child
See, Heaven's got a plan for you
Ayo, like, these dumbass opps keep mentionin' dead n***as, like
Don't you worry, don't you worry now, yeah
Like lil' bro ain't crash and—
And like, like, n***as know how the fuck we out here man, ShiestyFN
TPerry on the track

[Verse 1: BBG Steppaa]
Lil' bro said, when he catch me, he gon' make sure he put me on the news
I walked down, you ain't got no clue, to the smile, to your frown, on ya' mom and to you
Why do he think that he 'bout it wit' all them threats?
Just know, them shits gettin' through
Just know when we catch you ain't getting no room
Don't try to run, I'ma chasе you and shoot
And the fact that these n***as ain't fact and stеady be talkin' like they out here puttin' in pain
How could you hate me? You was just gang
You ain't cut off a rat hand, boy you a shame
And you a grown ass man, but you keep on goin' on live, cappin' to ya' fans
And you said we ain't do that to ya' mans
What the fuck? Lil' bro OD'd off a Xan?
When you happy 'bout one-fifty in a year and ya' old ass still ain't pop, like
How could you say you a opp? Like
What make you think you on top? Like
But you can go live and sit there and cry
Go pick up a gun and go hop in that car
Opps washin', they sayin' they don't wanna get popped
So I'm smokin' that wood, so you won't make it far
And I'm sick of these opp n***as cappin'
He said, "Wvttz down, lil' n***a, what's brackin'?"
Well Sos die Grape, y'all when did this happen?
Now I'ma swing through the R get to clappin'
Posted up on the S, wit' a ratchet
Swing through, disappear like magic
Why he beg for his life? Out the window, I'm laughin'
Then I start throwin' them bullets like Madden, like
And the opps don't hold no will
We swing through, tryna blow that steel
Late nights on they block and they ass never there
We gon' fuck on a opp hoe, ass in the air
They cap, they ain't passin' through there
Oot' up 'cause we 'bout to go take one of theres
Somebody mother finna be in tears, like
Somebody mother finna be in tears
[Verse 2: Fo Guala]
I'm in here, hot head, n***a, I ain't keepin' my cool
Run up on me, you through
G17, Ion' like 22s, if I see a opp, on bro, I'ma shoot
Raised in the trenches, I ain't tryna be cool
Bitch, it's Guala man, I'm slimin' the dude
Somebody mother finna get the news that her first son got cooked like stew
Got cooked like stew, uh, ridin' round town in a all black coupe
And the porsche go, "Zoom", uh, cops tryna hot but I'm doin' like 2
Better grip yo tool, when you outside better be on ya' Ps and Qs
I'm up in Cali, cookin' in the stu', like, I'm up in Cali, cookin' in the stu' (Ayy)
N***as don't know what they started, uh
Yeah, he gon' get it regardless, uh
Why the opps keep on talkin'? They ain't outside, we bend through often
Spin through, lil' bro goin' awful
(Fah-fah-fah, tossin', fah-fah, tossin', white, chalked em')