Stick them up

(How they talk on my gang but they don't know nothing a big chop you know ima up it we see a flock then I'm stopping the function look)

Step ahead tie your shoes boy you better not trip if I'm staying inside I'm shooting off rip run quick these ni**as know I like to smoke the (jayrip) In a riot with beams I'm clearing the scene now his face is on a TV screen on the news hosts are airing watch him run into the members who were toting on Sally, bullets hit him sending a message, capped with a gun in the deli I told em free melly (y n w) yeah I'm hot how you told I'm my squad you must work with the Feds I said fuck og's we be smoking they deads (pluck em), just blowing a barrel it's plenty my mind is fried fill the opps with some led and a semi I'm toting across the street take an appeal and travel into the job of sources heat according to the state of us the violent crime is becoming quicker I don't talk loud I'm a silent rhymer I'm holding one of ten packs I'm a demon with blicks my feet sliding I'm slicker I'm up with it so what's with roscoe saying I am not on a trip my shoes are tied I kicked a lot of opps to the curve my blood is flowing and I'm toting while petty rushing to the state of the crime I split lines,

How they talk on my gang but they don't know nothing a big chop you know ima up it we see a flock then we stopping the function a red beam aiming straight for his muffin (brrr) free keem like (glaah glaah) mister up it and punch them, moving too tact when we on the map moving in packs and the shooters in in traps im wondering why these bitches want to leave with a band I'm spraying a semi I'm not in the can or I'm not popping Percy xans just protecting the brand and im up in the blimp,

Private militia on missions the white bright sky in the heavens I missed it im spitting flames out of my mouth this is a crime I meant it when I clutch why was you whining and leeching on to a glock you're not ready for the pressure and the heat of my glock in a dispute with a fan I'm winding up and rolling down my windows with a couple of grand in my all black sleepy hallowed Bentley I'm missing my boy quan (and free move), he's in a penitentiary he shot all opps for fun he's deadly get ready to pause and primarily have your first rule of thumb on this bag (guapa) try your hardest not to fumble it when it comes to stuff I care about I really (do) give a shit, large amount of blood puddles are triple red if I hear gossip on our get back gang (what up nig) im shooting to kill and quan came home so lay nice and low and hang to a thread we pledge to fuckin blow, ( every O shot) up in the heathens life my life was hard we yelling every o shot have the job done so much money and meth on my part (pow)