[Verse 1: FBG Murda]
No trollin', I don't wanna tease, boy, I'm tryna make the nigga use his feet (Make the nigga use his feet)
Not replyin' to shit niggas say on the 'net, just pop out and tell me when you tryna meet (Tell me when you wanna meet)
Heard that shit on his head, my shooter get close with that heat, we don't shoot from the end of the street
They left him for dead, that nigga got left in the East broad day, nigga put him to sleep (Shooter put him to sleep)
I'm gettin' tired of these niggas, keep rappin', but ain't tryna bump, tell 'em bitches come hoop (Come hoop)
Lil' bro pledgin' switch, it'll turn a bully to a bitch, niggas hoes and they ain't in a group (Nigga, BD)
Don't care if I blow, but I'll still'll jump out that bitch or throw lil' bro the alley-oop (Throw lil' bro the alley-oop)
This nigga a goal, I throw, but just hand me a blick, give it here, nigga know what I do (Slime)
[Chorus: FBG Murda]
Za got me higher than a bitch, but I'm tryna fuck somethin', I done relapsed off the Perc'
Nigga ain't takin' shit, don't come around here tryna buck nothin', that's gon' get his ass a hearse
Just 'cause I rap, don't think I won't get down and creep, you can give me a stripe for a verse (Stripe for a verse)
We get niggas tapped, they let brother in with that glee, tryna fight, you gon' leave on a shirt (Leave on a shirt)
[Verse 2: FBG Murda]
Nigga won't come out the house, then just bang that shit out, you gon' make me come shoot through the blind (Make me come shoot through the blind)
Shit been dry, these niggas ain't been on they block, came through like three, four times (Boom, boom, boom, boom)
Initial right here on top of my grave, off the love, I'll get that shit done for a dime (Get that shit done for a dime)
Bet niggas gon' die chasin' fame, rap shit don't work, then you know that it's back to the slime (Back to the slime)
Don't put it on John, ain't put in no work or merch it on— mm, dead ass, I'm lyin' (Merch it)
All that tough talk gon' get a nigga murked, dead on arrival, bro ass ain't replyin' (Your ass not replyin')
Watch me work the back seat, A-plus shooter, a hooper nigga, I don't know shit 'bout drivin'
Tryna get two for one, we want the mama and her son, boy, I ain't tryna hear that ho cryin'
No trollin', I don't wanna tease, boy, I'm tryna make the nigga use his feet (Make the nigga use his feet)
Not replyin' to shit niggas say on the 'net, just pop out and tell me when you tryna meet (Tell me when you wanna meet)
Heard that shit on his head, my shooter get close with that heat, we don't shoot from the end of the street
They left him for dead, that nigga got left in the East broad day, nigga put him to sleep (Shooter put him to sleep)
I'm gettin' tired of these niggas, keep rappin', but ain't tryna bump, tell 'em bitches come hoop (Come hoop)
Lil' bro pledgin' switch, it'll turn a bully to a bitch, niggas hoes and they ain't in a group (Nigga, BD)
Don't care if I blow, but I'll still'll jump out that bitch or throw lil' bro the alley-oop (Throw lil' bro the alley-oop)
This nigga a goal, I throw, but just hand me a blick, give it here, nigga know what I do (Slime)
[Chorus: FBG Murda]
Za got me higher than a bitch, but I'm tryna fuck somethin', I done relapsed off the Perc'
Nigga ain't takin' shit, don't come around here tryna buck nothin', that's gon' get his ass a hearse
Just 'cause I rap, don't think I won't get down and creep, you can give me a stripe for a verse (Stripe for a verse)
We get niggas tapped, they let brother in with that glee, tryna fight, you gon' leave on a shirt (Leave on a shirt)
[Verse 2: FBG Murda]
Nigga won't come out the house, then just bang that shit out, you gon' make me come shoot through the blind (Make me come shoot through the blind)
Shit been dry, these niggas ain't been on they block, came through like three, four times (Boom, boom, boom, boom)
Initial right here on top of my grave, off the love, I'll get that shit done for a dime (Get that shit done for a dime)
Bet niggas gon' die chasin' fame, rap shit don't work, then you know that it's back to the slime (Back to the slime)
Don't put it on John, ain't put in no work or merch it on— mm, dead ass, I'm lyin' (Merch it)
All that tough talk gon' get a nigga murked, dead on arrival, bro ass ain't replyin' (Your ass not replyin')
Watch me work the back seat, A-plus shooter, a hooper nigga, I don't know shit 'bout drivin'
Tryna get two for one, we want the mama and her son, boy, I ain't tryna hear that ho cryin'
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