Cover Through the cut, with Pabb, we gon' bang on 'em Leeky in the backseat with that chopper, we gon' swang on 'em And all my drawers be Ralph Lauren Twenty-three shots to his car, Michael Jordan Brrt, bah bah bah Mmh, mmh, mmh Speak them facts nigga, gang My gang or no gang, yeah Tell me what's the problem, we can handle that Hit up Pabb or Leeky and I guarantee they cancel that Hah, I guarantee they cancel that LostWar nigga Leeky told me if you love your nigga love him to the fullest Don't put your trust up in these bitches, put 'em in the bullets I told my brother Light that this that life before fame I could do a hundred years and I still won't change These other niggas in the streets, they just tryna make a name He don't want that beef with me 'cause I'ma hit him with the flames Murder on my mind, you must ain't heard my last song I was locked up in that cell, written twenty-three a song He ain't 'bout that lifestyle that he puttin' in them songs I'm ridin' for my niggas, I told 'em that's right or wrong Ray Bans, this shit just don't seem right All my niggas chase bands, we uppin' at the green light Tell me what it be and we gon' slide on 'em Hop out on that street and put that fire on 'em We gon' ride on 'em, nigga we gon' slide on 'em Leeky in the backseat and he got that big four five on him Quit all that flexin', nigga know he ain't with it Catch his ass down bad, I send one to his fitted Nigga ABG, anybody can get it Nigga ABG, anybody can get it, yeah Quit all that flexin', nigga know he ain't ridin' Nigga say he in the streets but I know that he lyin' Glock-21, I'ma up seventeen times Glock-21, I'ma up seventeen times, yeah I made it off my block, I feel I graduated I just got a pistol for Christmas, boy don't get decorated Never sober, always faded, feelin' that I'm overrated Mama told me just like this, you know you were born to be hated Instagram thuggin', that's gon' make me pull up Hollow tips filled to the tip, yeah my clip filled up Pressure hit, I'ma roll this kush up Sixty gang crippin' I'ma throw that neighborhood up, yeah He say got them bands, well we got them racks too Thirty in my glizzy, my clip longer than a Shaq shoe You exposed 'cause your bro, he a rat too If I swang your avenue I'ma slide cross them tracks too Tell me what it be and we gon' slide on 'em Hop out on that street and put that fire on 'em We gon' ride on 'em, nigga we gon' slide on 'em Leeky in the backseat and he got that big four five on him Stop all that flexin', nigga know he ain't with it Catch his ass down bad, I send one to his fitted Nigga ABG, anybody can get it Nigga ABG, anybody can get it, yeah Stop all that flexin', nigga know he ain't ridin'