I seen my homie bitches dance around some studios
And we’ll tend to fallout, I told him bout them groupie hoes
Shoot a video in the trenches shot by LouieKnows
And if he fold inside that room he know he can’t unfold
2 bitches sucking I had em’ taking turns
Put that lamb truck all in Corsa and make the engine burn
We not pigeons bitch we vultures, we the biggest birds
And she still sore right after surgery she want her titties rubbed
I seen the opp cry on the gram say he need the biggest hug
And 20 thousand on the littlest n***a the biggest dub
I grew up around the dope game, Roman
Back then back when OG’s did cocaine
Back then I was sipping lean fresh out the bar bar
2010 taxing for that Reggie, he just like zaza
Tucked the draco right under your shirt look like a car par
Exclusive facial bullets touch your face just for that raw raw
Exclusive gaming, I done mixed the ‘Miri’s with the Virgil
Who you naming? Gotta say my name when you say chicago
Talk to ‘em, I can go the voice or no auto
And it been a drought in the street’s they took Ralo

Why you taking percs like you a a perky head
I can be the muscle I’m the voice instead
And why you steady sending threats like we ain’t know you scared
And we the ones get on his ass, then you know he dead
And he got hit all in his shit for what his homie said
Late night they hopping outta steamers on that lurking shit
The only way he shooting back if he off Percocet’s
Y’all know my killers killed y’all killers and I fuck with that
I know real n***as who got told on got real rope
Body part, n***a caught a murder judge gave his ass a elbow
Self defence, how you n***as mad they tryna mail bro
High expense, I was sipping lean this shit on mail-road
You from surrounding areas you not from the inner city
I rep Chicago wherever I go, I’m from that Windy City
I know one old head with a bag he think he biggie biggie
He had fell off with that bag, he yelling “gimmie gimmie”
Sit at your crib late night we hop out we ‘gon spark some
I know one killer who ain’t got shit kill you for a small budget
They ‘gon finish the job, they ain’t ‘gon leave him though, the narcs coming
I know a real killer, he ‘gon kill you then go to Art-Thomas
Yeah

Why you taking percs like you a a perky head
I can be the muscle I’m the voice instead
And why you steady sending threats like we ain’t know you scared
And we the ones get on his ass, then you know he dead
And he got hit all in his shit for what his homie said
Late night they hopping outta steamers on that lurking shit
The only way he shooting back if he off Percocet’s
Y’all know my killers killed y’all killers and I fuck with that