Lyrics

[Verse 1: Bluepesos] It's just Gang n em hopping out them trucks It's just a few sticks pack up in the trunk Mr. Hoe slapper, put my foot up on her neck Niggas dumbfounded, caught this thunder slam to his chest Talking crazy on the beat, I guess we back to the usual Sneak diss the gang wanna see what we gon' do to him? [Verse 2: Duffy & Bluepesos] We ain't talking bout' him, I'on know about no funerals Nigga think he finna get a pass, he delusional Shots fired, it's confusing em, I'm smoking who he losing to Cannon singing at him, it's a movie and a musical Shutting niggas up, any loud nigga mutable Fake niggas bummy, I'll hang him like the crucible No sir officer, it's nothing in the car I'm just on my way to rap, ain't no guns, that's bizarre Tryna box with the chops, step to me I'm finna spark Pistol whipped him in his head, left that nigga seeing stars [Verse 3: Bluepesos] I'on care who own the club, we brought sticks up in this bitch We caught him slipping early morning, guarantee he missed his shift The last nigga tried to beef, we had that nigga sheading tears Why these old niggas hating? Sit down, drink a beer Off The Mussle who they fear, they dont really want no problems Gang left him laid out, you see that white chalk around him? We gon' strip him for his dollars, rock him, sock him, side-pop him Gang came with ten choppers, all steaks from Benihanas [Verse 4: Duffy & Bluepesos] Everything we drop hot, why is niggas tryna top it? P got the chop with him, I'on think you wanna box it I go broke then I'm backing niggas pockets Put the barrel to a staring ass nigga eye socket Ling Ling bopping, OTM the hot topic Got it all out the mud, nigga you can never knock it Space X at his whip, mini drake shooting rockets Nigga think he Ali, I got a stick for Muhammad Two piece double decker, NSYNC was catastrophic Certified supervillains, it could get diabolic Niggas creeping on his door, told him ''Don't forget to lock it'' Pickpocket, door knocking, stashing blowers in the closet We all punching on shit, we came in with knuckle dusters Stop fronting, you ain't really finna do it, quit the bluffing A dead body in the ocean, Duffy look what I discovered It get cold in the summer, guess its finna be a disaster Ain't no real niggas left, industry full of actors Any real life questions niggas had got answered Good drink, I'm pouring up red, Fred Sanford Talking all that fiction this will be his last chapter Metal sticks in the function, we came in with Tiger Woods If some army bullets hit him, bet he get it understood I'm finna strip that watch off him, not his chain but I should And that pound of weed too, make him find another jug Oppositions to a Cookie pack, you know we smoking good Niggas balling in LA, Bronny James (?) wood Put some bands on his head, all my shooters paid in full We ain't shot at nothing together, nigga ain't no brotherhood