[Intro: RMC Mike]
(Smokey tryna smoke a n***a)
Smokey, fuck you doin', n***a?
Bitch

[Verse: RMC Mike]
Hey, walk 'em down in a outfit that cost 6 racks
Bitch like my bowler belly, fuck a 6 pack
My white boy like to bite diamonds, call him Riff Raff
My young n***as like to pop Xannys and shoot up kickbacks
Whoo, that get back is a muh'fucker
Free Rio out that cell, that's my thug brother
I can introduce you to my headhunter, she a muh'fucker
Step into the party, Louis on and they got blood on 'em

[Verse 2: 3200 Tre]
Huh, that n***a told me meet him here, why he run from?
All I'm tryna do is talk, I told 'em, "Ain't have my gun on me"
Huh, I think he sick 'cause his baby mama had her tongue on me
Ain't pay that bitch for shit, I told her, "I ain't have no funds on me"
Huh, but for Christmas, I might buy her son a Switch
I stand on business, you will see mе never evеr run from shit
N***as hoes, he brought a blicky, only us it for his picks
Bro in the feds, tryin to sneak and tell me how to us the mix

[Verse 3: RMC Mike]
Hm, unky still sellin' dog, it's a pit'
If I make that right play, bitch, we all gon' be rich
Fucked the bitch, then block her ass, she keep callin' me and shit
My Arab'll pop you quick, we got Pauly in this bitch
Huh, Ghetto Boyz in this bitch, what up, Tre?
Huh, bitch tried to call me broke, I upped pay
She laid down to suck this dick, I like it better up straight
I'm on the site scammin' n***as, waitin' on a update
[Verse 4: 3200 Tre]
Huh, they need to free all my n***as that's upstate
He said he move his dog fast a week, and have a pup' race
I'm cool n***a, but I'm stuck wit' a I'on give a fuck face
You see me out, speak 'cause you can get shot for that tough face
Huh, quit all that cappin', you ain't got no real motion
I might not sip, but I'll cop a pint to pop the seal on it
Stop all that nonsense, boy, it ain't shit to drop a ten on you
Huh, I heard that water deep, hope you got a FN on you

[Verse 5: RMC Mike]
Bitch braggin' how I fucked her, know it got her friend on me
Bitch, I pulled up in a 'Lac, but I got a Benz on me
You want some beef, ain't gotta do it, I'ma sick my kin on 'em
I'm out the way tryna swipe 'cause brodie got a bin on 'em
Hey, 60 for my Cuban, 50 for my AP
I'm only fuckin' wit' a rich bitch like Tay B
My security'll pop a n***a, shout out KB
I'm out in Cali' wit' the thugs, catch me down on Grape street

[Verse 6: 3200 Tre]
Huh, how y'all both still alive? That's fake beef
N***as talkin' tough and tellin' on they self on Say Cheese
Right now, I'm broke but it feel good to cop' that saftey
The AR got a scope, boy, we pick more shit than safety's
Huh, I'm in the crib put up, I can't leave until the bag gone
Hm, bitch on my phone beggin' me to put an ass on her
The dope fire and the stamp look like a mask on it
Huh, the smell strong, you can't put a paper bag on it