I told my shooter to get on his ass u better park his shit homie fucked his bitch and he told me which apartments his Imma have to blast him no fadin these ain’t barber clips heaters in my car that look like came off a rocket ship little homie clutching he aint askin who the target is If he holdin then he dumpin thinkin u a garbage bin always kept it quiet so believe me I can talk my shit heard he got those packs so me and bg gon rob the kid homies like to hop out they park the whip around the block Stingers finna light ur ass up there ain’t no warning shots Chased him out his forces I scuffed him up with a heckler kotch worried bout the feds, it gets grimey when u got lego blocks u trippin bout the streets and ur money this ain’t the Vegas strip I was broke and on my ass I knew that I had to take the risk If I catch a opp in sum Gucci then we gon make him strip Talkin out his ass he must wanna feel all of these hollow tips bitch I’m the only one doin this