[Chorus: Boss Blaze]
They said I did this, they said I did that
I wish they would just get off my dick
I been wit' my bitch, she gettin' my cash, broke n***as lookin' all sick
I flooded my wrist, got in my bag, I won't let a n***a hold shit
Plenty more clips, plenty more mags, plenty mo' guns wit' them sticks
Shit could get real, n***a don't panic, hitters pull up and they damage
We get to blammin', he hit the canvas, they gon' be callin' his parents
Rollin' wit' shotters, don't want no problems, big homie throwin' like Roger's
We hit 'em, he holla', my semi gon' send him to Heavenly Father

[Verse: Boss Blaze]
Free bro, free Moose
When this shit get hot don't be callin' no truce
Wit ya lil' deuce deuce
Tell me if you see a opp is you really gon' shoot?
Bitches on our West, if a n***as talk hot, I'ma hit 'em in his chest
Split his chain wit' a TEC, say "Fuck DS" take his head from his neck
We ain't playin' where I'm from, gave broski the 'K, tol' n***a, "Go dumb"
Killin' opp shit fun, get up on 'em, close range so that n***a don't run
Pop out, hit 'em up, chest, face
Glock out, man these n***a ain't safe
DT tryna crack that case
Tay-K, bitch I did that race
Ran it up on my own, that's fact
Want some? Headshot, hold that
'lotta clips like I'm on Snapchat
Do a hit, tell the opps get back
Put a bullet in his mouth, Tic Tac
Tryna beef wit' the squad, mismatch
Run up on 'em, all you hear is click-clack
Two shots, push a n***a shit back
[Chorus: Boss Blaze]
They said I did this, they said I did that
I wish they would just get off my dick
I been wit' my bitch, she gettin' my cash, broke n***as lookin' all sick
I flooded my wrist, got in my bag, I won't let a n***a hold shit
Plenty more clips, plenty more mags, plenty mo' guns wit' them sticks
Shit could get real, n***a don't panic, hitters pull up and they damage
We get to blammin', he hit the canvas, they gon' be callin' his parents
Rollin' wit' shotters, don't want no problems, big homie throwin' like Roger's
We hit 'em, he holla', my semi gon' send him to Heavenly Father

[Verse: 2 FBG Duck]
Don't try to tweak my brothers, bitch I send you to meet my brothers
We ain't got no big homies, bitch, it was just me and brothers
Lately it's been 'bout gang, you see me, you gon' see my brothers
N***as try flex like they don't need gang, well bitch I need my brothers
N***as out her sendin' threats, found out that I fucked his bitch now they upset
Who want me to come take a ride, I'ma bring my gun, I don't trust that
Bro 'nem told me, [?]
So I went out and bought me a baby Tommy, I ain't even talkin' 'bout Rugrats
N***a talkin' 'bout they gon' kill me all on Twitter, I'm like "Who does that"
N***a you was just a fan a week ago, I'm like "Where the love at?"
First n***a, ask a n***a before we beef is "Where yo guns at?"
Boy you broke as fuck, where your funds at

[Verse 3: Nick Blixky]
I'm in my bag, got so many chops, I'll spin and shoot 'em broad day
All these n***as askin', if they ain't talkin' money I don't give a fuck what they say
I keep a blick, no I can't slip, lil' pussy n***as showin' hate
Free 22Gz, he'll let it squeeze, for my bro know we gettin' play
Outside, had to count it back up
[?], had to get the stash up
No job, always liked the fast bucks
Smokin' za', better get your gas up
Move wrong, finna let the mag bust
Skrtt the rate, told the boys to catch up
Fuck the opps, got extendos
We'll put a red dot on his face, give 'em dimples
All this bitch is simple, if I told you I'll cuff then you know it was a [?]
Off the Henny wit' the same gang
And you know we 'bout the violence, ain't worried 'bout a damn thing
Get loud, goin' [?]
And you we in the [?], yeah my n***as on the same page
[Chorus: Boss Blaze]
They said I did this, they said I did that
I wish they would just get off my dick
I been wit' my bitch, she gettin' my cash, broke n***as lookin' all sick
I flooded my wrist, got in my bag, I won't let a n***a hold shit
Plenty more clips, plenty more mags, plenty mo' guns wit' them sticks
Shit could get real, n***a don't panic, hitters pull up and they damage
We get to blammin', he hit the canvas, they gon' be callin' his parents
Rollin' wit' shotters, don't want no problems, big homie throwin' like Roger's
We hit 'em, he holla', my semi gon' send him to Heavenly Father