[Chorus: KM]
I'm from that booky side of Birmingham
Chest shots, stabbings and slappings, probably heard of 'em
We won't leave till the clip done
From gangsters to runners, don't get hit by this handgun
I be where the drillers and the trappers be, pull up, it's a casualty
I'm really in the streets, that's why my shawty stays mad at me
Talk on the set, we send back lead and that's naturally
Cock it back and lean and bang the wap casually
[Verse 1: KM]
My youngers will hop out and knock you off your one
Take your chain and your watch, tell me, bad boy, what you on?
They're gonna tell you what you're not and then ask you where you're from
Leave you bleeding out your top, corn flying out the Glock (Bah, bah)
Rubber bands on my money, I'm getting racks now
Your man ain't a shooter, full of lies, he's never clapped rounds
One shot from the barrel, skimmed his head, don't aim waist down (Bah)
It's a scary sight if you see us circle back round (Skrrt, skrrt, skrrt)
Got this sweet one, she's calling me a bastard
She just found out how we put two opps in a casket
If we get 'em on the mains, don't get clocked by the cameras
I'm certified, I've been outside, headshot, get him cancer
And I was locked up, blowing my credit to make time fly
The gunman's a failure, watch him shoot, it must be cross-eyed (Aha)
They throw up gang signs, they ain't been on one glide
We all got blood on our knives and we've crashed bine (Baow)
I'm from that booky side of Birmingham
Chest shots, stabbings and slappings, probably heard of 'em
We won't leave till the clip done
From gangsters to runners, don't get hit by this handgun
I be where the drillers and the trappers be, pull up, it's a casualty
I'm really in the streets, that's why my shawty stays mad at me
Talk on the set, we send back lead and that's naturally
Cock it back and lean and bang the wap casually
[Verse 1: KM]
My youngers will hop out and knock you off your one
Take your chain and your watch, tell me, bad boy, what you on?
They're gonna tell you what you're not and then ask you where you're from
Leave you bleeding out your top, corn flying out the Glock (Bah, bah)
Rubber bands on my money, I'm getting racks now
Your man ain't a shooter, full of lies, he's never clapped rounds
One shot from the barrel, skimmed his head, don't aim waist down (Bah)
It's a scary sight if you see us circle back round (Skrrt, skrrt, skrrt)
Got this sweet one, she's calling me a bastard
She just found out how we put two opps in a casket
If we get 'em on the mains, don't get clocked by the cameras
I'm certified, I've been outside, headshot, get him cancer
And I was locked up, blowing my credit to make time fly
The gunman's a failure, watch him shoot, it must be cross-eyed (Aha)
They throw up gang signs, they ain't been on one glide
We all got blood on our knives and we've crashed bine (Baow)
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