[Intro: Pressa]
(Fursace)
Yeah
Grrah, grrah, grrah, grrah
Grrah, grrah, grrah, grrah
Grrah, grrah, grrah

[Verse 1: Pressa]
A hundred deep, all in the trench, don't need another n***a block
I sell a brick of cocaine before I saw my brother opp
My opps, they keep on cliquin' up, that means more people to get shot
I got money on my head, don't know how much, but it's a lot
Check the drip, double C, I'm a Crip, I like Chanel
I can't sit, I can't chill, I got homies still in jail
I tell East to spin your block, he look for someone he had to kill
Why she think he a gangster? He just rollin' off a pill, ayy

[Verse 2: K Money]
Why the fuck opps don't never be around?
Why the fuck Rondo can't get no rebound?
And we gon' shoot shit up in the T town
And we gon' shoot shit up in the Park
And you know we'll do it in the day, in the dark
And he ain't gon' slide 'cause he ain't got heart
I'm smokin' on Dawg, yeah, he ain't smart
I'm smokin' on Dawg, he should've been smart like haha
Opps got me fucked up
I wear this Burberry upside down
And I put this LV to ground
And if he an opp, he ain't safe around me
Smokin' this **** by the pound
Free ****, he ain't get that bail
Killed so much n***as that I'm goin' to Hell
I kept on shootin' right after he fell
[Verse 3: Why G]
How I slap a little n***a, make it look like wish him well
I'ma walk him down and take his top, I'll do it by myself
I'm creepin' in the shadow, jumpin' out the bushes, lookin' stealth
Compact gon' look like an elf
Louis Vuitton, that boy, he a belt
It look like poutine the way his skin melt
I can tell that he dead the way that he fell
I don't know where he dropped, could be Heaven or Hell
Eight hundred dollars in my ginger ale
Jamaican bitch eat my dick like it's oxtail
Can't weigh this dope up on no regular scale
And I gotta keep goin', haters want me to fail
This spill that I got on, can't get it off Grailed

[Verse 4: Burna Bandz]
Gotta keep goin', haters want me to fail
Black or exotic, not a regular sale
Big Glock touch you like R. Kel'
Big Glock kiss you, I won't tell
Crodie know how to shoot, but he can't spell
Sometime looks deceiving, you just gotta smell
And you hear my name, know I ring bell
We gon' come through, drop a whole lot of shells
All this ice on my neck and wrist can't melt
It's just to numb the pain that I felt
Shooters, they ride and die, they'll crash out
Bag on a sale, let's go cash out
I had my way in the trap house
Havin' my way with this rap now
See, my wrist is flooded now
They hopin' I see a drought