… Hehe, yeah You know I'm posted in the booth with the boof with Ronny J Gotta get in the mood, hehe You know how I'm rockin' For real now Gang, gang, gang Hehe, yeah, yeah (Ronny J produced it!) … And boy, I'm sippin' tea in yo' hood What the fuck is up, you buttercup? Purrp in that blunt, smoking suicide, bloody blunts Pussy boy, you talkin' shit for Twitter, it ain't addin' up (ayy, ayy, okay, okay) How these pussy niggas moving day to day? I've had enough (yeah) Post with that fucking blade, bitch, I'll skin your face, huh Dick on that fucking gun, I love it when they run (ayy, ayy, ayy) … Fuck all that talkin' shit, do that shit for fun, uh Fuck 'round with these niggas, ayy Stab a body, fuck do you mean? (Brr) Post with that Glock, aim that beam, ayy (yeah, yeah, yeah, okay) Put that shit right in yo' spleen, ayy Run through yo' hood, ayy Fuck nigga, what's really good? (Bitch) My niggas wish that you would, ayy, ayy … Bitch, I'm sippin' tea in yo' hood, what the fuck is up? (Ayy, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah) Bitch, I'm sippin' tea in yo' hood, what the fuck is up? Bitch, I'm sippin' tea in yo' hood, what the fuck is up? Bitch, I'm sippin' tea in yo', ayy, ayy Bitch, I'm sippin' tea in yo' hood, what the fuck is up? (Bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch, yeah) Bitch, I'm sippin' tea in yo' hood, what the fuck is up? Bitch, I'm sippin' tea in yo' hood, what the fuck is up? … Yeah, ayy Aww

Mic check, one-two, one-two It's pronounced "Bar-chetta" Chetta, not "shay, " you fucking dumbass (oh, my God) Chetta! Sniff up, uh (aye) Just packed 50 fuckin' oppies in my Dedd Barchetta (hah, hah) Cut 'em up and stack 'em nice, don't get no blood on the legs Ain't tryna talk, just want the jaw because the head far great (fuck) You tote the .45, 'spose we goin' to war time, mate Yo, why you testin'? Here's a lesson, I go V for vendet' That Smith & Wesson go together, like two birds of a fea' You try go play 'round with that pole, you spin around it like te' They flyin' both sides, know there ain't no joy and no plea' Fuck-fuck-fuck ya goals, guy, motherfuck ya cosign, bitch (cosign, bitch) Grab the bowie knife, stab him 34 times, bitch David Bowie type, Blackstar, throwin' scythes, bitch Act like Crona with thee hoe, I eat your soul, bye, bitch I'm on the run (hah) Tell 'em, "Jimmy's comin' with lil' Janey" Don't enrage or piss her off, you know that Janey got a motherfuckin' gun I get Fendi floatin' when I'm motherfuckin' tokin' Crash a 47 Boeing to the motherfuckin' sun How I rock, can not talk wit' ya bro Hate the pigs and the po', I'ma chokehold that motherfucker, Trump Throwin' rocks, throwing stones at your home Get too close, I'ma knock you off ya toes and out ya motherfuckin' trunks Just packed 50 fuckin' oppies in my Dedd Barchetta (hah) Cut 'em up and stack 'em nice, don't got no blood on the legs Ain't tryna talk, just want the jaw because the head far great (fuck) You tote the .45, 'spose we goin' to war time, mate

Cryogenic all my pieces Hollows popping through the chrome Lava leaking from my body Probly rotten to the bone Nah I'm not fuckin with you leeches Probly caught him at the store That chopper spit bout 30 rounds Now watch his body leave his soul My flow enhancing That boy just rancid I told my mans That my plans is to blow finances And hella bandses My tan Sig get so romantic She got to chanting And BLAM! bitch It's underhanded He lost a damn limb I'm god again Paint that wall again Crank that bat and break his jaw again So now that motherfucker cannot yawn again I'm Spartacus Sending DOOT! DOOT! DOOT! DOOT! through your cardigan If I don't get what's mine then I might let these hollows off again, and... Put a cap in his ass Feel the wrath I'ma drag to the back of house Put a stack on X'ing him out If a man wanna fuck with mine Laugh at him now Hit a nigga, put a rag in his mouth I don't really think of asking twice Blast and I'm out, what a god damn ass of a clown Cut a fucker then I dug a ditch Cuz I never knew another motherfucker Wanna gut a motherfucker much as Rezzy I'm in love with this Cryogenic all my pieces Hollows popping through the chrome Lava leaking from my body Probly rotten to the bone Nah I'm not fuckin with you leeches Probly caught him at the store That chopper spit bout 30 rounds Now watch his body leave his soul My flow enhancing That boy just rancid I told my mans That my plans is to blow finances And hella bandses My tan Sig get so romantic She got to chanting And BLAM! bitch It's underhanded He lost a damn limb I'm god again Paint that wall again Crank that bat and break his jaw again So now that motherfucker cannot yawn again I'm Spartacus Sending DOOT! DOOT! DOOT! DOOT! through your cardigan If I don't get what's mine then I might let these hollows off again, and...

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