Pussy flexing with a strap Better take a step back But BB guns don't clap Posing yo pussy ass wack Talking bout all them stacks Your bank account sits flat And I know that for a fact A screen shot was attached Pussy flexing with a strap Better take a step back But BB guns don't clap Posing yo pussy ass wack Talking bout all them stacks Your bank account sits flat And I know that for a fact A screen shot was attached And this better be a lesson Let me get the smith n Wesson Red dot get to pressin N show you the full aggression Bull I'm fully progressive What he'll do there's no guessing Bullet holes my profession Boy you better get to stepping Ratchet ass dreads Claiming yous red But the game will leave you dead With a chest full of lead Lay you down time for bed Cuz a bullet in your head Died alone with no bread But we never fuck with Feds Posted high in the clouds Always looking down Silenced don't make a sound jungle I wear the crown Loud got it by the pound silence don't make a sound White underwear turned brown Now you lookin like the clown Boy it's in sight But there won't be a fight You Kiss yo ass goodnight Let the bugs eat yo eyes I hope your family cries No regrets on my pride You looking down from the sky But that be a lie Crusty ass nails Bout to throw up need a pale Boy we jumpin off the scale Need blood need to kill Psychotic need a pill The danger you will feel Talking shit will you still Chilling low key in Brazil Pussy flexing with a strap Better take a step back But BB guns don't clap Posing yo pussy ass wack Talking bout all them stacks Your bank account sits flat And I know that for a fact A screen shot was attached Pussy flexing with a strap Better take a step back But BB guns don't clap Posing yo pussy ass wack Talking bout all them stacks Your bank account sits flat And I know that for a fact A screen shot was attached Run up squeeze it in a ally Had boy screamin daddy Then roll up smoke a fatty While the cops try to catch me Put him down like old Betty My niggas throwing confetti Dead you missed your wedding The funeral had a nice setting Spaghetti they feed them plenty No more heads than 20 Ain't that shit so funny With a 2 babies in her tummy Boy you just a fucking dummy Plead for ya life or u better get to running Because these aks be thumpin Yea yea yea we stuntin We always in the plot Boys lurkin down ya block Goin blow up ya spot Desert eagle or the glock To shoot him in his top Should've never lip locked Now you gonna get shot Let the 45 go pop 2nd clip don't think I'll stop But don't think that I'll get caught Never a suspect by the cops Pull up make a body drop Trappin around the fucking clock Posted like a mail box Found in the cut with some shell tops