[Intro: Fredo Santana & Boss Moo]
Yeah DJ Kenn, turn up man
Drop that shit man
You know how we comin' man
Squad squad
Squad shit no qua shit
Gang shit no lang shit

[Verse 1: Tadoe]
What I say?
I can put them bitches on the plane or take the road
N***a you ain't even really gang 'cause you fuckin' told
And you act like you ain't even trick, boy you fuckin' bold
And I took yo ass on a hit, and you fuckin' froze
I done touched a whole honeybun and I ain't touch the work
Why the fuck you buy that gun if you ain't bust it first?
N***as really hoes in the field we'll fuckin' skirt
I'ma sold you ass hit drink, you a fuckin' jerk
58 hunnid for the pint and it nun to us
Told the bitch to hop on this plane, we gon' run it up
And she gave a young n***a brain for a tummy tuck
Blue bumma gang be the gang, I'm the runner up
Pay them gangs with this damn gang, I lump 'em up
Hallows hit his motherfuckin' brain, I stomp him up
Cocker say she wanna hold the whole thing, finna numb her up
And I made a hunnid off them things, finna thumb it up
Thot hoe I hit already, bitch sum it up
Bitch, I'm in Knoxville
It gives a young n***a chills how that guap feel
Standing ten toes, cold hearted in this hot field
In the stu smokin' glue off a waxyle
You think that he solid, but he fu, he is not real
I get in that jam I'ma blam, I will not squeal
High as hell, slide do a drill off a ox pill
Damn Tadoe, they ain't ready yet
I did sold two day, I just got a Percocet
This bitch say she love me and ain't even met me yet
Finna get the top, sloppiana, yeah, heavy neck
Aye, I'm that n***a hoe
I done fucked her and her friend, I'm a gigolo
And they break a n***a heavy checks but I ain't pimpin' tho
And I bought the lil bitch a bag but I ain't simpin' tho
Go go bitch, I need a mata
My uber behind the wheel, we'll slide if we had to
Santana got the Drac, we'll up it, it go grata gratara gratara gragra (boom boom bang)
[Verse 2: Boss Gottie]
DJ Kenn All Or Nothing, bitch I'm goin' in
Boolin' with the gang, my brothers bitch we all kin
All type of Glock & chops, it's gon make a movie clips
Mixin' drink, percs and xans, it got me high as shit
Still posted on the Front, we ain't duckin' shit
Still been down yo blocks, yeah we lurkin' bitch
Catch you, we gon murk you bitch
You know we on that gang shit and that squad shit, free murkin' bitch
Through the city in them hot cars
We ain't worried about tell, we gon' scratch and tell 'em bye bye
That shit you smokin', that ain't zaza
If you want it bitch, I got, but it gon' cost you a lotta
Groupie hoes givin' matta
No you can't hang, you ain't gang, you ain't squad squad
Free poppa bitch that's gang boy
Pop out with that Drac, no hesitate he gon' bang boy

[Verse 3: Boss Moo]
I been sled on the opps, had to hit them goofies up (They deadass)
Smokin' new pack, no this ain't that fuckin' Duck (He dead)
And them n***as think it's sweet, I'ma hit em up (Dummies)
Call a ambulance, now they gotta pick em up (Pick em up)
Do the race, flame them new n***as up (Yoon)
I'm in the 'Raq, what the fuck y'all thought it was (Chiraq)
We ridin' 'cats, what the fuck y'all think we in (Yoon)
I caught him lackin' had to get that goofy tinned (Brrp)
[Verse 4: RB Santanna]
Aye, I'm about that action and you know that (You know that)
But bitch I'm here to talk about my Skrilla like I'm Kodak (Aye)
Pull up in that black & yellow Lamb truck like Bojak (Like Bojak)
He ain't rich enough, he can't afford to buy his hoe back
Aye, that n***a broke as fuck, you know that
I'm the young goat but you know I keep a big gat
I don't like McDonald's but you know I keep a big Mac
I don't do no talkin', I don't really do no chit-chat
Aye, he ain't in the churches, he ain't with that
50 in this Glock that bitch go brr-brrap
Draco with me, aye keep a nick-nack
You make any wrong move folks put your shit back
Aye, bitch I'm in this track, call this a dispatch
Aye, designer back to back, this shit mix match
Aye, M-O-N-E-Y, I'm gon' get that
Aye, n***as broke as fuck, that I ain't with that
I been gettin' money since shorty chasin' cheder
If you tweak with gang, we gon' put him on a sweater
We don't give no fuck, we slid in any type of weather
Hallows tips ain't hit him, they gon' get his ass together
You ain't really like that, n***a you soft just like some feathers
All gold AP and that bitch sound like treasure
They can't get no money, cause we applyin' too much pressure
I might get the sack then go take a flight to LA
[Outro: RB Santanna]
Aye, gang gang gang gang
Your bitch on my dick, she say what's the gang gang
Bitch she with the fuck and that pistol go bang bang
We'll take his ice and take his fuckin' chain chain
Gang gang