[Chorus:]
N***as talking shit, I buss shit
Pull up on your block with the mop sticks
N***as they not shit
N***as talking shit, I buss shit
Pull up on your block with the mop sticks
N***as they talk, they not shit
Pull up on your block with the hot chick
Pull up with on your block and buss shit
Pull up on your block with the mop stick
N***as talking shit, they not shit
Pull up on your block with the hot chick
Hot shit, with the hot shit
Pull up on your block with the hot chick
Hot shit, hot shit
Pull up on your block with the hot chick
Hot shit

[Verse 1:]
Now you mama scared her son about to be dead
Pull up on your block
Put these hot shits in your head
Bitch I’m about my gang
SOD that’s what I play
Run up on me wrong pussy n***a that blood gonna shed
Run up on me wrong in this broad day I spray
Shoot you in your mouth bitch it’s a bloodbath
Bitch we from the ATL Westside on the belt
Run up on the Soulja Boy I’ll shoot you in your neck
N***as talk that fuck shit
Bitch I grip that take
N***as left SOD
I left them where they at
Fuck the pussy n***as
I don’t need a mini wet
Versace on my belt and three thousand cash
Run up on me wrong
Gonna let this house spray
In the streets where I have to fucking accept
Drop top
In a Mercedes we gonna crank
Gripping these bitches
Fucking theses bitches
Man they shade
[Chorus]

[Verse 2:]
Young Soulja Boy I ride five feet
They say rich homie corn left rich game
Bitch I make a hundred in a day
Me and birdman touch down on the plane
These fuck n***as so lame
Switches size, click hop in
That ain’t in the game
If I catch you Imma snatch your chain
Broad day with that mack Imma make it rain
In that Maybach with Birdman
It use to be me, him and Mackman
[Unable to transcribe line, words unclear]
Bitch now I swerve through the trap lane

[Chorus]