True Shot Callers OTM

[Intro: Duffy]
Nigga
Shit

[Verse 1: Duffy]
P, what's the word?
I'm flu flammin', I don't know what niggas heard
Play with OTM, catch an awful lot of hollow points
Hold up and new Balenciagas in the mud
Why this nigga pop it to me? I am not the one
Broke bitch tryna kick it with me, I am not the one
Niggas mad, I guess they really hate to see us up
I don't know what these niggas on, close that back door

[Verse 2: Blue Pesos]
The opps ain't the type to even slide, I'm for sure
I'm a true shot caller, I done opened plenty doors
Only half out the hundred, I should probably give 'em more
War time, up the score, they're wavin' flags, ain't tryna forfеit
Nina ridin' shotgun in the foreign lookin' gorgeous
You'll flеx if you had the shit I had, you can't afford it
We'll put him on the menu like, "Can I take your order?"
I just sent LeBron James to the block to guard Jordan

[Verse 3: Duffy & Blue Pesos]
.223s for any snakes or informants
I'm high as fuck, it's 'bout three in the mornin'
One in the head, we ain't givin' niggas warnings
Postin' guns and don't shoot 'em, niggas corny
Shit, it's gettin' ugly, you should listen
Pippy Longstocking with me, we got all extensions
I'll put the slap on any nigga with the quickness