[Intro]
Aye
You already know how this shit go
Don’t touch me, don’t even look at me
Matter fact back the fuck up

[Verse]
[Lil Moe 6Blocka & Rooga]

Im on the block I’m holdin’ it down
If you ride passed I’m blowin’ it down
They came through shooting at the ground
We came through shootin’ at the crowd
He screamin’ and hollering, he jumpin’ around
He can’t run, Foenem hounds
You a opp bitch where the fuck you going now?
Where you goin’ opp?
I tote a Glock, you must be smoking rock
But these R.I.P.’s open tops, like soda pop
And don’t look too suspicious riding’ down this block, we on that car
50 on that switchy, it keep shootin’ they like “When he gone stop?”
Fuck they thought it was? We sent shots just because
Heard they in the club, we fuck around and in the club
Can’t see in this bitch we 5 percent, we tinted up
He was down and bad til’ we sent him up
Stopped on 79th to get some Russian Creams
Don’t run up on us because we keep them Russian things
Foenem’ll hop out blickin’, they be rushin’ things
I think about what you did in yo’ fuckin dreams
Get some fuckin’ Z’s
I’m a lil’ n***a but my gun taller than me
So just watch how you talk when you talkin’ to me
Double cross who? You won’t make it cross’ the street
AR .308 this bitch’ll make ‘em call for peace
Pull up with that Chop out, I’m like “What’s with all this tension?”
He let all hit shots off and he missed ‘em, ya’ll should bench him
He caught a neck shot, he caught a back shot, we ain’t even cause attention
And we got his lo’, ain’t no knockin’ on doors, we kickin’ that bitch off the hinges
You got yo’ gun I got my gun, it’s a showdown
.308’s rainin’, we’ll make it pour down
He thought we was done ’til we let off some more rounds
That boy tried to run I bet his dumbass know now
That’s that car flippin’, flip it, swish it, we causin’ collisions
Foenem pop out bushes in them trenches, it get treacherous
We got four Glocks and they switches, boy that “ghost Glock” ain’t gon’ get it
Oh that’s your block we been spinning’? When he fall, run up, drench him
Told that boy “stop it”, we got options, my Glock came with optics
From the 3 I shoot like Steve Francis from the The Rockets
What you doin’ reaching in your pocket? Don’t be a trendin’ topic
That back door open I already forgot to lock it, we all in your apartment
We all in they crib, makin’ n***as lay down
You can try to run, get chased down like a Greyhound
Ain’t no lettin’ it slide, fuck you think this a playground?
This AR .556’ll lay a ape down, bitch
Foenem grave, you already know how this shit go, Scrappers