[Round 1: Geechi Gotti]
Nigga you'se a bitch
You ain't really 'bout that life Crip
You just a wannabe, man on some dyke shit
Chest open, soon as the knife fit, it's turning into a slaughter
Cause now I got his heart on the blade like I'm pimpin' his daughter
Get him some water, he lookin' mad mad
Potato on the barrel, he gettin' hash tagged
Yo' ass trash, and my .38 Special like the first kiss
Spine shot, back out from the Iron on some Surf shit
Speakin' of Tsu, that nigga let you live
I told cuz on the turf you trippin'
Keepin' you breathin' was his worst decision
Matter of fact, baow, now there go that third round Surf was missin'
Boy you trippin', you know I'ma shit starter
Headshot he leakin', then my bitch spark him
Cause lil' baby gunner make him drip harder
I Crip harder, with two Glocks, get ya boo shot
You the leader of the crew? BAOW, it was a casket, 'til I put a quarter in it, now it's a jukebox
Nigga who hot? You only put me on the clique cause you know I'm a shit starter
The Loc make the clique harder
Headshot, now you see his face on both sides, he a trick Quarter
Bro I'm Vince Carter, I came in the league bangin'
Baow, and I'ma shoot 'til the body drop
And like the phone when the call is blocked, I let it keep ringin'
The heat bangin'
On Crip I was gonna star dawg, I ain't even let 'em all off
But the reporter said bro took 15 shots, guess he a ball hog
Fuck all y'all, nigga who got next?
This round went over the head like it was too complex
But he's so muhfuckin' short it's easy to miss
I ain't even think of that, since that bitch went over the top, I had to bring it back
This nigga wack
You stole Tay Roc's style, took gun bars called it a "gun line", it's plain to see
No gray area, black and white like the one time
So bein' called his son, that shit not gon' stop
I used to sell fake dope to fiends
This ain't my first time havin' to serve a knock off Roc
The chopper knock off blocks
It's gon' feel like a missile was sent
Code word: Ya daddy don't love you
Nigga you'se a bitch
You ain't really 'bout that life Crip
You just a wannabe, man on some dyke shit
Chest open, soon as the knife fit, it's turning into a slaughter
Cause now I got his heart on the blade like I'm pimpin' his daughter
Get him some water, he lookin' mad mad
Potato on the barrel, he gettin' hash tagged
Yo' ass trash, and my .38 Special like the first kiss
Spine shot, back out from the Iron on some Surf shit
Speakin' of Tsu, that nigga let you live
I told cuz on the turf you trippin'
Keepin' you breathin' was his worst decision
Matter of fact, baow, now there go that third round Surf was missin'
Boy you trippin', you know I'ma shit starter
Headshot he leakin', then my bitch spark him
Cause lil' baby gunner make him drip harder
I Crip harder, with two Glocks, get ya boo shot
You the leader of the crew? BAOW, it was a casket, 'til I put a quarter in it, now it's a jukebox
Nigga who hot? You only put me on the clique cause you know I'm a shit starter
The Loc make the clique harder
Headshot, now you see his face on both sides, he a trick Quarter
Bro I'm Vince Carter, I came in the league bangin'
Baow, and I'ma shoot 'til the body drop
And like the phone when the call is blocked, I let it keep ringin'
The heat bangin'
On Crip I was gonna star dawg, I ain't even let 'em all off
But the reporter said bro took 15 shots, guess he a ball hog
Fuck all y'all, nigga who got next?
This round went over the head like it was too complex
But he's so muhfuckin' short it's easy to miss
I ain't even think of that, since that bitch went over the top, I had to bring it back
This nigga wack
You stole Tay Roc's style, took gun bars called it a "gun line", it's plain to see
No gray area, black and white like the one time
So bein' called his son, that shit not gon' stop
I used to sell fake dope to fiends
This ain't my first time havin' to serve a knock off Roc
The chopper knock off blocks
It's gon' feel like a missile was sent
Code word: Ya daddy don't love you
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