Fat Nigga

[Intro]
Come on, GlockBoyz, n***a
(Bang that shit)

[Verse 1]
Yeah, it sound good, but I ain't never seen you in action
N***as see me gettin' shot at on Live and started laughin'
I wasn't runnin' from no shots, ran to the chop and got it brackin'
I guess they really need some cash, they out here shakin' they ass like faggots
And then y'all cliquin' up with dead n***as
I'm in a clique that's full of dead n***as, that's how y'all tryna play it, n***a?
Man, add them boys to the list of dead n***as
Man, fully automatic Glock is entertainin' like Ced, n***a
Not to mention y'all ain't never in the city, man, come get busy
I heard peanut head always lookin' for Tez, he always with me
I heard them other n***as, they wanna kill me, why they ain't did it?
N***as was cryin' like bitches, I thought that fat n***a wasn't livin'
N***as claim bodies they didn't drop, they didn't
If he my dog, he killed your homie, and my mans gave him the alley-oop
N***a, if not, K never did what he did, I wouldn't have hurt himself
The city open, we be feedin' n***as bullets, you don't want me to get to servin' you

[Chorus]
Man, that's facts, n***a
They like, "Damn, he be back to back with it"
Man, you know I got extra clips for this fat n***a
[Verse 2]
Man, n***as get to runnin' low and cliquin' up on they last
Man, we don't speak on n***as who ain't here, we the reason they dead
Man, I ain't never with a Glock, boy, less I'm runnin' with Tez
Keep a chop, boy, tryna hit an opp boy right in his head
N***as comedians, they funnier than Kenan and Kel
I ride around, two hundred rounds, plus money for mail
Man, Master P, we 'bout it, 'bout it, n***a, chopper style too
N***as was happy Woo died, n***as mad I'm part two
They shot at me, I'm still alive, you gon' be dead, we catch you
See, you don't know, so I'ma tell you, we got them boys movin' swift
N***as know when they slip up, we shoot 'em right inside they shit
Man, ain't no ones droppin' bodies I could call you got from Sprint
She know he shot her n***a down, Dame couldn't get her off his dick
Got twenty-three and this bitch came with a flash, who want a pic? (Who want a pic?)
N***a, I feel like shootin' somethin'
Man, call the opps, tell them meet me on Plymouth and Hubbell
Man, I want Ant, probably Peso, we got drums and money
Feel like we finna go to the studio, we tryna drop somethin'
N***a, ayy, we tryna pop somethin'
Shoot his ass up so many times, go call a doc' for him
N***a, play with him, lay with him, boy, I'll blow them socks for you
N***a, GlockBoyz'll turn the city up, man, give the opps [?]
Beefin', I ain't never seen you out, man, with you, I had [?]
Rappin' n***as stealin' on my name and say I'm lyin'
Man fast breakin' n***as stayin' out the way just like LeBron
Man, every day, them n***as DM me like fans, I get tired of it (I get tired of that shit)
[Chorus]
Man, that's facts, n***a
They like, "Damn, he be back to back with it"
Man, you know I got extra clips for this fat n***a