Y'all say you got Fredo and Reese on camera
How did y'all get my info?
Hello? Who is this?
(you been the one that we in to)
I don't sell drugs, I ain't a plug
My background from y'all was plenty of guns
(You ain't the focus, and you bogus
I seen your ass on plenty of runs)
Mama called, said cops kicked the door
Not lookin' for me lookin' for bro
That Phantom y'all had came back stolen
In the trunk three sets, 36 over
Thirty bricks, pure shit no remix
Address came back to her shit
You a striker, three strikes, he out and it ain't no fight
Call cell partner why?
Hit 9 with a manslaughter, damn
And his bond two million dollars flat
I don't care cause Imma make it right back
And the feds they all on my back
Turned that street money into rap
And these niggas trippin', these niggas bitchin'
Got em all in your trap
Nah!
First 48 that's a homi, had 40, had Tommy
Two flats got my zombie, one flat that's a body
In my mind smoke Bobby, we ain't a gang we a family
Niggas wearin' "oh my", niggas spray and niggas die
Phone tapped up, niggas say Durk nigga when they jam up
Call Fredo, bring the pounds up
Built 300 from the ground up, war time then we round up
How you snitch, doin' five months
I'm leaning dry like I'm smoking five blunts
I can have all the bricks I want
I can have all the guns I want
Niggas tell but I want
Out of sight, out of mind
Head shots then I'm out of town
Pull a tec if you out of bounds
Whole hood let a hundred rounds
Now he dead, now he underground
You ain't a star nigga you underground
Everybody know he runnin' wild, everybody know I'm a problem child
Let's get it!
Writer(s): Composer Author Unknown, Shane Lindstrom
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com