Click-clack, two different straps like it's mixed-matched I'm posted in the ghetto where yo homie got his shit snatched Always gettin' funky, have to keep a blam on me [] servin' ounces to the OG Niggas gettin' mad 'cause I'm puttin' in that pressure In it just to win it, and I'm always with the extras Playin' for the team, and im bringing home the cheddar (Talkin' out yo fuckin' ass) Now yo block is getting wet up Baby throwin' top and I barely even met her I'm posted in the set, told the fed to throw the set up Yo team full of rats, of course you niggas fed up And my bitches with the shits, best believe yo ass is set up [] like you 'bout it, on my momma you a hater Like grow a pair of nut's and run my mother fuckin' fade up I'm straight up, they hate us 'cause we gettin' back to paper And my team is stupid solid, ain't nobody that replace us 40 on me, and it's tucked by my waistline Im fuckin' up her guts 'cause I know her nigga hate mine Money callin', and I ain't pickin' up that FaceTime I'm really with the smoke, give a fuck about yo gang sign Got the space juice and the A2 twin Duce duce steady aimin' at yo face dude All this weight up on my shoulders, we could never fit the same shoe And I bust for my brothers 'cause I know they'd do the same too