Wtf is That Yus Gz

[Intro]
(Fritz, how you do this?)
(Fah, fah, fah, fah, fah) What the fuck is that?
(Fah, fah, fah, fah, fah) But I told 'em niggas not to fuckin' lack
(Fah, fah, fah, fah, fah)
(Fah, fah, fah, fah, fah)

[Verse]
Uh, steppin' on these niggas and I be out here thuggin'
Uh, uh, caught him with no gun, bitch, why you runnin'?
Uh, uh, pistols, ARPs'll get to dumpin'
Uh, put a flashlight on the blick, now he can't see nothin' (Nothin')
He was lackin' after dawn and got his head popped
Don't compare to no nigga that just got on 'cause he got dreadlocks (He got dreadlocks)
I can't say too much on this phone because the feds watch (Because they watch, uh)
And my chains'll keep me cold because I'm dead hot
I could never stop, shit ain't gon' stop 'til I hit the jackpot (On my mama)
Uh, on my mama, I'm switchied up, this be a dead block (Bah, bah)
He think he tough walkin' through his hood, this be your dead stop
My favorite opp was suicidal, he caught a headshot
Lil' bro hit the curb, pop the trunk, let me out right now
Bitch, we gon' hit 'em up, walk 'em down, shoot one round right now (Boom, boom)
Once he come out that front door, bitch, we gon' blow (Bitch, we gon' blow)
Yeah, bitch, we switchied up, we tryna up the score (Boom, boom)
Last nigga ain't run, bitch, he was dumb, he caught like four (He caught like four)
Fuck all my opps, we dig 'em up and we feed 'em more (Feed 'em more)
Bitch, that backdoor wide, don't be surprised who in that door (Who in that?)
Niggas out here tellin' lies, it was your brother who hit the floor (Fah, fah)
I feel like Tay-K, damn, my chopper love me more (My chopper love me more)
Uh, niggas love talkin', watch this chopper roar (Grrt)
I think this chopper gay, this ho love rippin' drawers (Grrt, grrt)
Chopper have him Cuz walkin' out the store
Uh, where the fuck is unc'? Just like "Nephew, I need more" (I need more)
Uh, tell 'em bring back Trump, he had the fiends knock at the door (Bah, bah, bah)
We put switches on our guns, if he could run, then that's the Lord (Frrt, frrt, frrt)
5.56 rip through lungs, if he ain't dead, that's four for four (If he ain't dead)
Uh, cut up in that block (Skrrt, skrrt), we 'bout to hit that shit again (Yeah)
Bitches chillin' with my opps, I think these hoes like linkin' feds (Bah, bah)
Catch his ass right by that light, what's all that shit on Instagram? (Grrah)
If you know when you run, you pay that price, that Drac' get to frrt like a ceilin' fan