[Verse 1: Kenny Mason]
Ain't finna argue, ain't nobody harder
Ain't finna argue with nobody daughter
You only bossy 'cause somebody spoiled you
You only bossed up when nobody chargin'
I only tear up whenever I start to
Look where we at 'cause I know where we started
Miss me with static, you know that we brought it
It's automatic like doors at the Target
Tote it at Target, won't miss our target
With the lil' beam on it, won't miss a Martian
With that lil' beam on it, won't miss a marble
Call up lil' demon, he gon' hit your marble
Put up my finger and finger a goddess
Of Venus, I'm eatin' out Eve in thе garden
Ain't no more eatin' out, wе gettin' leaner now
N***as been readin' now, we gettin' smarter
Even the odds and get even odder
Seekin' these broads in need of ménages
Leanin' on leadin' all gullible people
To think that you hard is leavin' me nauseous
Bitch, I really know n***as in pain
Share my vision for n***as that can't
Knew your shit wasn't legit when you gave
Your attention to ignorant claims
[Chorus: Kenny Mason & Freddie Gibbs]
I swear to God
Bitch, I might risk my life for this spark
I could tell off the top, he was flawed
I could tell how he talk, he a fraud
No, these n***as won't die for the squad
Bet these n***as won't die for the squad
Bro, these n***as won't die for the squad
Bet these n***as won't die for the squad (Squad, only one way, yeah, yeah)

[Verse 2: Freddie Gibbs]
Put that on fin, it ain't nobody harder
Bitch, you would never, bitch, I beg your pardon
Labels get fed and these artists, they starvin'
I was gon' be a rich n***a regardless
Big Rabbit gon' whip that brick up regardless
Known in the Chi', Fake Shore Drive, Andrew Barber
When sack in town, we sell rocks like the Carter
Big bro gon' hop out that fishscale, no tartar
Yeah, I could put four bitches in a drop-top, yeah
Seen the Lamborghini, gave me slop-top, yeah
Seven in the mornin', murkin' opps up, yeah
Knockin, "Bone, bone, bone" like I came from St. Clair
First of the month, I hit my geeker with a Tina
I moved on to the yayo, I was finished with the reefer
Fifty in this MAC-11, 'bout to shoot at the polices
I was chillin' in the strip club, fucking up Maria
Bet these n***as won't die for the squad
Copped that 850, yeah, for the squad
Bitch, you got on them pistols, but ain't gon' shoot shit, I think you scared to die for the squad (You ain't gon' shoot shit)
Chopper hot, man, I put that on God (God)
Bet these fuck-n***as callin' the sarge (Callin' the sarge)
Bitch, you got all them pistols but ain't gon' shoot shit, you gon' snitch if they give you a charge
Bet these n***as won't die for the squad
[Chorus: Kenny Mason]
Bitch, I might risk my life for this spark
I could tell off the top, he was flawed
I could tell how he talk, he a fraud
No, these n***as won't die for the squad
Bet these n***as won't die for the squad
Bro, these n***as won't die for the squad
Bet these n***as won't die for the squad
I swear to God
Bitch, I might risk my life for this spark
I could tell off the top, he was flawed
I could tell how he talk, he a fraud
No, these n***as won't die for the squad
No, these n***as won't die for the squad
No, these n***as won't die for the squad
Bro, these n***as won't, no, these n***as won't, bet that n***a won't