[Intro: Icewear Vezzo]
Nigga talkin' this lean shit, nigga, you know what’s— (You can't fuck with us, nigga)
Really live this shit, nigga, Drank God
Yeah
Real Ghetto Boyz shit
Drank God (Got this shit on me right now, nigga)
All real, real trap niggas (Rich off pints for real)
We ain't none of these rap niggas (No cap, yeah)
(Iced Up Records)

[Verse 1: Icewear Vezzo]
Got dog shit in my pocket, all fives and twenties, look like the crack days (For real)
Got Quagen, Trishy, and Wock’ up in my bag, I miss them Act' days (Yeah)
Shinin', nigga, rose gold 'Dweller on me brown like a frappé (Woo)
I hit my shells with chops and a whole lotta shooters, I still got trap ways
Yeah, don't hang with nothin' but robbers, jackboys, shiners, look at my homies (Ghetto Boyz)
Got a quarter bricky up in my Louis bag of that Calvin Broadus, nigga (That doggy)
Dog food, countin' up all blues, stеp back, I prone it
Walk in Hutch and drop 200K just to match my Rollie, yeah
Paid nigga, wеnt and got my chain bigger, I fuck with gang members
I don't fuck with rappers, I’ll crash out, take his shit, these niggas straight bitches, yeah (He pussy)
Long sleeve, that’s that Caddy truck, sit that bitch on eight inches (For real)
Forgios, they look like Oreos, black and white, I'm Raven
Slide to Truth, treat that bitch like the dub, I’m on stage like Flay did it
Don't take no L's, got big F&N, alphabets, that K with us (Yeah)
F&H (What else?), big boy, rep the lakes, big stepper like Kevin Gates (Bitch)
An '80s nigga (What?), I’m a real crack baby, bitch, I came from Section 8
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