[Chrous: DD Caine]
If you steppin’, then run up, don’t do no tiptoe
I heard them pockets is obese, you countin' big rolls
Steady breath until that chopper change your tempo
Set you up for acting, you get robbed out your dineiro
Hoe, you don’t amuse me, we with all the static
Don’t be acting goofy cause we gon' let you have it
And I got my Uzi, raging shit in traffic
Lay low, lay low, want smoke, them bullets matchin'
[Verse 1: DD Caine]
I was boolin' with my ratchet, hoping I won’t have to blast it
I was tryna make a change, but these n***as always chatting
They ain’t tryna do no fades, without them arms, these n***as plastic
Putting money on my brain, gon' get your friend inside a casket
Man my Glock don't got a dick, my shit a bitch, that hoe a squirter when I tap it
I be mobbing with some sickos, throw fiestas with a Mac-10
Put your whole block to siesta, pillow talking on a savage
All you’ll see is this bandanna and a flash before your passing
Man I hope you pray to God and you repent for all your sins
Think this the game you wanna play, but I’ma score and take the win
You throwing caution to the wind, I throw a Raw around your friend
We blowing "gotcha!" in the air, you smelling corpse when you walk in
My fucking area, blue tip, the areola of your twin
Get your digits all divided for some fucking dividends
I’m not gon say this shit again, I’m tired of yapping bout you cappin’
But next time you pull up, shoot to kill, I'm only dying laughin'
Don’t be on your socials bragging, when you aim like Shaq at back board
Cause a n***a heart is brick and you just sculpting a disaster
Waiting to happen, when sirens is flashing then n***as dashing right out of the city, it’s really no biggie
Yo shotta big poppa, now you by your dolo, some shit like P. Diddy
[Chrous: DD Caine]
If you steppin’, then run up, don’t do no tiptoe
I heard them pockets is obese, you countin' big rolls
Steady breath until that chopper change your tempo
Set you up for acting, you get robbed out your dineiro
Hoe, you don’t amuse me, we with all the static
Don’t be acting goofy cause we gon' let you have it
And I got my Uzi, raging shit in traffic
Lay low, lay low, want smoke, them bullets matchin'
[Verse 2: Kashout Klil]
Lay low, better pray that I don’t catch you
Slide down your block and let them hollow tips stretch you
Shorty, you’se a bop, should’ve knew that when I met you
Almost at the top, this the time that they gon’ test you
Keep a loaded Glock, this bitch always to the rescue
You can’t bring me down, even if I try and let you
I ain’t tryna cuff you, shawty, I ain’t gon’ arrest you
Lot of shit done up in my years I won’t confess to, yeah
And they know how the game go
It’s gon’ be a homicide if you touch my chain, ho
We gon' let that karma fly, hit you in your brain, ho
Leave a n***a traumatized, like he seen a damn ghost
Yeah, like he seen a dead body
We gon’ pull up on a n***a block and shoot like everybody
You can’t catch me lacking, always keep a savage right beside me
Even if I’m dolo, if you run up, you’ll be very sorry
If you run up, you’ll be very sorry
Pockets they on sumo, so my drip is more like a tsunami
I can fuck your bitch and still fuck mine, that’s why I’m very cocky
Bitch, I’m Rambo Gang, you cannot treat me like I’m anybody
[Chrous: DD Caine & (Kashout Klil)]
If you steppin’, then run up, don’t do no tiptoe
I heard them pockets is obese, you countin' big rolls (big rolls)
Steady breath until that chopper change your tempo (tempo, oh, oh, oh)
Set you up for acting, you get robbed out your dineiro
Hoe, you don’t amuse me, we with all the static
Don’t be acting goofy cause we gon' let you have it
And I got my Uzi, raging shit in traffic
Lay low, lay low, want smoke, them bullets matchin'
