[Intro]
What, what, 6-O Breez-O, n***a, you know how I'm comin' man on cartel shit, n***a
What, sick of n***as, man

[Verse 1]
Look, to death, the last real n***a left
These n***as foul sworn I'm handin' out tecs
Pullin' grounds with the Crips and the Jects
600gs, and I ain't worried about shit I got my gun on me
Bet I make it home to that daughter and that son I feed
N***as hatin' on me, I got that quick on me
Glock squeeze while you chop cheese from this bacon, homie

[Verse 2]
I walked around with a couple gs, we swarm down on n***as like some killer bees
I still ride around with tommys and semis, got a problem tell them n***as get wit me
Couple homies that are lookin' so different
They the same but they loyalty missin'
Cuz' i rap n***as think that I'm slippin'
Bullets hot like your grandmother's kitchen on Thanksgiving and she just cooked some chitlins and I'm the mic for this team
Bitch I'm definitely pimpin', n***a

[Verse 3]
I heard some n***as say my name in they raps like they ain't heard bout' them n***as got clapped
Quickest way to get your stupid ass wacked
Glock-23s, FNs, semis, and macs, yeah I'm into all that
Totin' pistols since way back, way back, burn your Du-rag to a wave cap
We already known for shootin' up the place
Fuckin' with Breez-O it ain't safe
[Verse 4]
These n***as so fake, I don't do 8s, 50 shots, red tape, countin' guap getting caked, pop shit, hop gates, free the guys, fuck the jakes, ridin' around feeling great wit your bitch eatin' steak
Flexing hard, bumpin' Drake, for fucking Christ's sake n***as get off my dick---
On some hockey player shit slidin' around with them sticks
Who shot ya?
It was me, n***a, I'm with the beef, n***a, come down your block with the swiffer and I sweep n***as

[Verse 5]
I got hoes from Atlanta to Houston
Your main bitch out here stealin' and boostin', roll your own woods, bitch, I be boofin'--- already I'm just boolin and coolin'
100 shots if we gotta start shootin
Go against me, dumby, you stupid
Drop-top when I'm feelin' recouprished
I'm that n***a, but they already knew this
Want war ain't nothing start shootin, n***a
Pussy, what's crackin'?
What's happening?
Pistol sang like Toni Braxton, I ain't jackin, never lackin
Bitch, we bout that action, coach of the team call me Bill Jackson
6 rings, buzzer beaters, early morning traffic
Long live LA and free Numba9
Kill a motherfucker whisperin about mine, (and I'm), and I'm Chiraq's finest, please rewind this, 600's behind this