[Intro]
(AR Beats)
(Chris Bone)

[Chorus: Young Slo-Be]
This thirty clip hangin' like a dreadlock (Ah-ah-ah)
Since this n***a think he DaBaby, get your bed rocked (Ah-ah-ah, ayy)
Who you knockin' out? Take a headshot (Ayy)
Who that n***a clutchin' the pole? N***a, that's Young Joc (It's the gang)

[Verse 1: Young Slo-Be]
Ayy, in the Southeast, I need fee-fees
Bitch, these hundreds hella raggedy, I'm a neat freak
Cuddy got that G34, he the Greek Freak
Ooh-wee, damn, go hard in the paint
Suckas always talkin' 'bout they slidin', but they really can't
Posted in front of the store with a chop, cuddy rolled a stank
These fuck n***as ain't up on my mind, I took her out of state
Call my hood mini Toronto the way we play with Dracs, n***a

[Chorus: Young Slo-Be]
This thirty clip hangin' like a dreadlock
Since this n***a think he DaBaby, get your bed rocked (Ayy)
Who you knockin' out? Take a headshot (Ayy)
Who that n***a clutchin' the pole? N***a, that's Young Joc (It's the gang)
[Verse 2: EBK Young Joc]
Bustin'
The Scat' yellow and it's a leopard
Free my brother Hari, he was fuckin' up them extras
Girls back to back, we got no OG to come check us
They locked my aunts down, so I be movin' to the necklace
Paul Wall on me, baby, I ain't come for all that sexin'
For any situation that get sticky, I got weapon
Blow y'all noodles out and go and pray in front the reverend
Bitch told me go to hell, well, all dogs go to heaven
I just want the neck, well, biddy, tell me why you naked
We gon' spin again and again when we steppin'
It might just get tricky, we got blicky on the Seven
Slide down this bitch, we droppin' fifties out these cannons
Ghost guns pretty, but they iffy, they be jammin'
Slap-ass n***as cut wrong, they be hammin'
Catch me flippin' 'bows, sendin' hoes, ain't no scammin'
Catch me flippin' 'bows, sendin' hoes, ain't no scammin'

[Verse 3: Bris]
Ayy, big pole, when I knock it, gotta hold it steady
Ain't no question if Bris rockin', bitch, you know I'm ready
Big rocket, when I pop it, it's gon' blow spaghetti
Ain't my fault I do her cold, bitch, you know she let me
I can tell them bitches choosin', I can see 'em lookin'
I ain't trippin', throw up the deuces, tell 'em keep it pushin'
I keep an oven in the stove and I ain't even cookin'
Somethin' iffy about blood, he always leave from bookin'
Hear that pop-pop, uh, then let them shots follow
I sit back and then I laugh and watch this thot swallow
Pile on drills and wear masks, you can ask Ralo
Young Joc bang Belair, but not the black bottle
And yeah, this chopper kickin', ayy, he wanna fight with who?
You don't know I'll run you down up in these Nike shoes
Countin' money and shootin' guns is what I like to do
All these n***as is unhealthy, they don't like the Fruits
Came home to a bag and I ain't go shoppin'
'Cause I heard them n***as mad and got me pole poppin'
Long sticks from the Asians, Ling Ling Longstocking
Tricky Dance Moves keep metal like he robotin'
Already know they might blow pole, watch how you look at me
Just left the pen' and DA tried to throw that book at me
Ayy, baby, lift your chin up, keep look happy
Money sweet up in this trap, my OG cook candy (Cook dope)