[Intro: DameDot]
What's poppin'
DameDot man, you know how we bomin' man
Believe man, from the D to Chiraq man, let's get it gang

[Verse 1: Tadoe]
Got the pounds for the low, finna double up
I just poured me a four, watch it bubble up
N***a talkin' tough shit but ain't touchin' us
We'll pop out the cut and fuck you up
Paid seven hundred dollars for this Gucci collar
Five hundred dollars for this fuckin' Gucci belt
I got Gucci on my waist, Gucci in your face
I bought this belt just to hold up my damn K
Bitch you know that I'm jocked up
Goin' hard, so hard, can't stop us
We on top, can't top us
I'll have your whole slab come and top us
The whole gang 'cause I'm guaped up
Play them games, you get mopped up
I am not a fuckin' lame, I'm a shotta
We'll hit your block and tear your block up
Broad day, watch the fuckin' news
Bitch we play for keeps, watch the fuckin' news
We gon' slide for weeks, we ain't gon' keep it cool
N***as better get out the way or keep a fuckin' tool
My n***as they dogs, they be sellin' food
My n***as be robbers, they'll get at you
[Verse 2: DameDot]
Take 'em up top, watch a n***a ooze
Get on my bad side, you gon make the news
Got them Balmains on, shits 'bout tight as fuck
Say you got them bricks, we gon' tie 'em up
N***a talkin' heavy, we gon' light him up
I went to golden sun, told him light me up
Brand new Fendi belt with the F's on it
New 550 with the F's on it (Forgis)
See a n***a out, put the X on him
Hit him with the extras put the rest on him
Bitch we play for keeps, ain't no doubt about it
Ran out of reds, now we pourin' Wocky
My bitch tryna fuck Tadoe, this bitch out of pocket
Hit the ho for free, I ain't come out of pocket
Team out in Houston, no we not the Rockets (we ballin' though)
Brand new Balencis, these not Foamposites
Who on DameDot level? nobody (n***a who?)
Pull up in a new sleeve bitch with no mileage
Need a QP, boy that's four ounces (that's it?)
Not nine fifty, I need the whole thousand (bring that shit here)
RGS the mob, what you know 'bout it?
Nah bitch, we the mafia, we so 'bout it
From Chiraq to the D, opps rest in peace (We GLO Gang)
Two-two-threes, RIP's, put him straight to sleep (out of there)
Pour a whole pint and go straight to sleep (snorin')
All this shit I spit facts, this ain't no make believe n***a