FWM

Lyrics

[Intro] (Ooh, shit, that's a Danny G beat) (What up, Danny?) (Fuck with 'em, Bill) [Verse 1: TrDee & Prince Jefe] Fuck with me, oh, you can't Got a Glock and a ski like I'm finna rob the bank Dog Shit Militia, might just pull up in a tank Bad ass bitch in the room getting spanked All my bitches bad, I feel like Mike Lowry Heard an opp got dropped, shit, we finna throw a party He thought he was buff until them boys took his Cartis I'ma hit the game winnin' shot, you cannot guard me Ooh, shit, this a Danny G beat, bitch Cut into my mans like we don't lay up with no freak bitch I pull up with that stick like I can't see shit Hit your block and spin back around, this a remix Still tryna stack a hundred, he ain't seen wilt Always stayed with the same team, never rebuilt No cap, you know it's SBDSM Them niggas ain't fuckin' with us, and we don't fuck with them Kinda feel just like a landscaper, got that blower on me Thought you was a hundred, didn't think you'd get to foldin' on me Damn, this bitch do what I say like I got a controller on me I'ma play it crazy, she don't know I know she fucked my homie Shit, I don't care, as long as I can get between Or you could let me in your mouth just like some Listerene 50 ball, Dame Time, it can't fit in my jeans I be ballin' on these niggas, man, it's in my genes (Let's go) [Verse 2: Prince Jefe] I just sold a hundred pills and brung a dub back You lay a hand on any nigga with me, it's a blood bath Already ran through the bag, where the plugs at? I took my last fifty bucks, got a bus pass It's a switch on the blick, better duck fast Love a rich bitch got a bag, we can go half Free slick, fuck the opps, they get toe tagged Don't hit my line if you don't cop the whole bag Grab a thousand yeahs and I hit the road with it (Yoom) Duplicate the grams, only take me four minutes (Rrr) If I go broke, I crank up the stove nigga (Let's go) Movin' with the 'caine, I feel like an old nigga (Damn) I got young niggas do hits on four-wheelers Got a little circle with killers and go getters (Yeah) Racing to the bag, I'm in here runnin' laps I told Dee to point him out, I'm tryna tap a hat Boy, don't keep talking me to death, we can go rack for rack Know he a lil' boy, he keep rapping 'bout fifty racks (Boy) I'm just tryna smash, she keep saying I'm moving fast I can hit my young dog with sixty packs, let's see you move the bag I'm fresh from Dakota where the jeweler at It's a 30 stickin' out my pole, where your ruler at? I try to tell them no but they just wanna crash Make the wrong move, nigga, that's yo' ass