Any corner, any street, any town, King Street, no boy can this way

A weh dem wan do? Come violate we

Yo, you see where we come from?

We make boy family can't find dem

(Maneesh on the beat)

Telephone ringin', what the fuck them **** say?

They don't want no smoke 'cause them killers on the way

Telephone ringin', what the fuck them **** say?

Put them handguns up, ****, we ain't come to play

We bringin' sticks (Baow, baow, baow)

We in the sticks (Grraow, baow, baow)

With the sticks

They tryna pin it on us, but it won't stick (Baow, baow)

It won't stick

Hello? Y'all **** ain't gon' kill shit

I been bangin' thirty years and I'm still lit

Your Glock got that thing on it? Fuck that lil' shit

My granny was the first bitch with a real switch

I made Chris Brown a blood, that's somethin' y'all gotta deal with

So let Chris rock or I'll smack the fuck out Will Smith

And that's real shit, I ain't no actor

Ask around Bompton, they gon' tell you he a factor

They gon' tell you he ain't rap type, tell you he be trippin'

That he pop up out the blue, they ain't gon' say that he was Crippin'

Uh-uh, never was, never will be

And that right there'll make a fuckin' Crip kill me, mm

But my cousin ain't gon' stand for it

He from Avalon and they be strapped like Jansports

To live and die in LA, fuck you layin' for?

Chopper ridin' shotgun, fuck I need my hands for?

You outside? So is the homicide

So is the crash-outs and the YNs, they tryna die

For better words, it's gon' be a long summer

So tell the grim reaper he callin' the wrong number

Telephone ringin', what the fuck them **** say?

They don't want no smoke 'cause them killers on the way

Telephone ringin', what the fuck them **** say?

Put them handguns up, ****, we ain't come to play

We bringin' sticks (Baow, baow, baow)

We in the sticks (Grraow, baow, baow)

With the sticks

They tryna pin it on us, but it won't stick (Baow, baow)

It won't stick

To who it may concern, keep my name out your mouth

And I'ma do my best to keep the gang out your house

'Cause I'm bang the fuck out, stay in your lane, run your route

'Fore I remember who I am and pull them things out the couch, I swear to God

I feel like I was born at the wrong time

'Cause **** don't stand on business like I stand on mine

So fuck friends, it's just me and this chrome 9

Don't make me click it like I'm done with this phone time, ****

I been smokin' Black & Milds since a child

So run your fuckin' fouls 'cause pussy **** out of style

Caught him lackin', what's happenin'? Where your homies at now?

**** reached in his jacket, hit him with the (Baow, baow, baow, baow)

Kick that **** leg

Pat his pockets, make sure that **** dead

Flip that **** over, now he tryna crawl

With his phone in his hand, who the fuck you gon' call?

Telephone ringin', what the fuck them **** say?

They don't want no smoke 'cause them killers on the way

Telephone ringin', what the fuck them **** say?

Put them handguns up, ****, we ain't come to play

We bringin' sticks (Baow, baow, baow)

We in the sticks (Grraow, baow, baow)

With the sticks

They tryna pin it on us, but it won't stick (Baow, baow)

It won't stick

Baow, baow, baow

Baow, baow, baow

Baow, baow, baow

Grraow, baow, baow