[Intro]
Yeah
Ghetto Boyz shit, you know what the fuck going on
Shit on the floor
(Marc Boomin, this you?)
Free the ghetto, n***a, we still on that n***a
Y'all n***as can't fuck with us
Yeah
(Boomin need extras)

[Verse]
Everybody got three chains on
Everybody got a thang on 'em, think you robbin' who?
Take a chunk out his head, that's what the chop do
Pull to the hood, count the money up, alright I gotta scoot
Got a hundred racks on the floor, like we about to shoot
Middleman and bought a Presi' off a hundred pounds of glue
Got a bow' for thirteen, sold the bitch for twenty-two
Swiped the watch for thirty racks, sold it back for twenty too
Bitch, I'm a real hustler
In a 2020 'Vette, it look like mustard
Yea I was fucking both of them, and they like cousins
Nodding off every thirty minutes, cause the sprite muddy
I'm off a blue thirty, two chains and one watch, that's two birdies
Sixty racks for the kit, so that's two thirties
Caught a body broad day, it was 2:30, I had two 30s
You better move swift
Cause we got another Glock, and bought a new switch
So many rounds in thirty seconds, I had two clips
Keep it on me everyday, ain't on no lose shit
Three chains and ain't signed, on my Lou shit
Fucking with the Fetty Wap, I got a blue brick
Finna make another M, I got the blueprint
Stepped on a whole brick of soft and left the shoe
Clip longer than a pool stick
I'm finna buy a eighty carat diamond bracelet
Pour six in a twenty ounce pop, I wanna taste it
Get three pops out a pint, I'll waste it
Stop putting your Sky Dweller in the camera 'fore I take it
Yeah I still be on that one shit
I still pop pop pop, 'til the gun click
I'm Mr. pull up on the scene with a hun' strip
Glock got a drum clip, beating cases like a drumkit
Missed out on twenty racks cash, I was rushing
Flipped out and beat my bitch ass, it was for nothing
N***a go against the mob, giving free smoke, want a blunt lit?
I done fucked her and her friend on a drunk tip
Mike ridin' with some shit make a bus flip
Bumped into a opp going to Hutch getting my buffs fixed
Every time I pick your hoe up, she gon' suck dick
Bitch prolly talkin' 'bout me to her friends, cause I bust quick
I just bought another handgun
Before we fucked with the blues, had a tan run
Caught a opp at Home Depot, hit him with a nail gun
She gon' let the Yung OG fuck to get her nails done
Just got into a fight with my sell, and the scale won
They tried to initiate me in the cartel, I got a bale gone
Big bro went to the feds and he had the best cell-phone
Made a hunnid' racks on house arrest and I was basically in jail at home, n***a
So I don't really wanna hear excuses
You can do what the fuck you want, if you wanna do it
You ain't never hear me mad at a n***a that ain't fuck with my music
Everybody got pape' 'n jewelry, you don't know who rap, man it's so confusing
I get real love.. I heard the opps at the party, I'mma still come
Y'all was buying air cartridges, ah-ha, I had a real gun
Hope big cuz' get an appeal, he had a pill run