Lyrics

[Verse 1: Quilly] Drop back to back, no chill button Murder these rappers, I'ma kill somethin' I was on house arrest; still buzzin' You can put a ring on her, and, she still fuckin' How niggas' strapped down and they're still runnin'? Fucked money up, got back, still stuntin' You in line waiting on the new J's, J's on my line I ain't sleep in 2 days Got your lil' bitch on me, I'm your boo fav Go head and tell your grandma, I'm the new wave I could put you on your feet, put you on game You be wit a 100 niggas and, they're all lame If your money fold, that's small change Niggas' livin' wit they're mom, buying Balmain Check these niggas', I got too Don't shoot me, shoot the niggas' that shot you Keep the FN just to calm my nerves A-Town voice, better calm your bird Said she wanna chill but, I kindly curve Sippin' on the lean, so i slightly swerved Kick in your door wit Balenciagas or my Margielas You thought they was Pradas I get hot and hotter, my coka proper, add some Baking Soda Stretch like Alibaba Gained a lil weight but, a nigga still flexin' Fake watch buster, come and check my VVS's Rollie on deck, On Dek on my necklace Here to catch wreck if you niggas' act reckless On your mark, get set, ya'll ain't ready yet? This is what happen when you put a nigga on a Jet From the jects, flow outta space like the Jetson's Spaceship, wit the top back; George Jefferson Nigga rattin', hangin' in your hood, and, your lettin' em Not me, I'm checkin' em, swish cheese, checkin' em 100 on your head, you're a lil' nigga You ain't got more heart than my lil' niggas' Hitter masked up, he my Mascot That's a new car sittin' in the glass pot Fuck a ladder, all I need is 1 shot, when your in the Spital All the fun stop Breakin' up the work like Chop Shop My old head got rich off of one block Get a few million, that's lord willin' Make her catch the bus so she don't catch feelins' Work in the floor, guns in the ceilin' Cops run in here, whole house gettin' sentenced O-Dog; I'ma Menace, niggas' always start shit that they can't finish I done seen work, shed no tears You a scared nigga, shootin' outta fear [Verse 2: Spade-O] You want beef? We can have it here Doors on the McLaren, whip look like it got Rabbit ears You see, we don't do the chatter here, it don't really matter here Your blood could get splattered here My youngin' had a face full of tatted tears Now, we got years, cuz a couple niggas' ratted here They goin' up faster and faster Sent to the moon like they work for NASA Clowns in the town, they know homie not playin' They might come around but, homie not stayin' Uh, apply the full court pressure, fresh outta court The Glock 40 on the dresser I take heat to all the hot spots Cookin' in the kitchen, half the Chicken in the Croc pot A quarter Mill in a lock box, she might ride the dick But, she'll never wheel the drop top Bitch, I don't have half a holla, you see my kicks Cost a half a dollar These ain't MJ's or ballin' sneaks, they LV or Balmain sneaks See, we all can eat, a couple points for my side dishes Your main joints, they my side bitches You wanna eat, you can ride wit us You wanna beef, then, collide wit us Uh, On Dek is who I'm ridin' for They new wave got em jumpin' off the diving board