Ice Talk

Who got the ups on us?

Strap across your shirt

Like ****, buckle up

You came in so I send you on that hit

Might die, you fuck it up

Clip hold got like T trimmers

Real street ****, my money up

Wave this bitch like "Hey, what's up?"

Soon as fat boy get close enough

**** don't want bums

They punks on IG up, I post 'em up

I talk to them bodies late at night

When I be rollin' up

They know it's us

Go with all that flaggin', bitch, you braggin' now

Choke on bruh

.40, that's the caliber, the magazine, the seventeen

I got this from Medellín

Eighteen times thirty-three

I hope he ain't sellin' dreams

Might go back to mailin' keys

I don't want no good bitch

Make Dugg bitch a felon, please

My wrist methamphetamine

You know this that ice talk

Cop, I don't fool that pipe off

Yellow tape, white chalk

OT, gettin' this ice off

Four-hundred mails

Every country town around

We beat it down

Used to bag up pieces

Sittin' up east listenin' to "Wipe Me Down"

I know they don't like me

All your brothers, sisters, cousins

Feds ever hit the house

Put my shit in the oven

They get cheaper by the dozen

Roster, grew to a monster

We blow them choppers, bitch

I don't know my alphabets

Tell me what come after rich

Play with us, we whackin' shit

Claimin' shit and stampin' shit

Fuck y'all

Yeah, yeah, yeah

Yeah, these **** don't want beef with us

They IG killers

We bendin' blocks and three rentals

I don't see ****

Keep drillin', bitch, we breed killers

We elite spinners

Big Shiner keep his heat with him

Eat and sleep with it

Wake up

Bitch wanna fuck the youngin' from the front

Go get that makeup

To make sure all my **** had a piece

I took a pay cut

Ho gon' put this apartment in her name

You need some pay stubs

I'm crankin' off fake drugs

Four-hundred in eight months

Ten with me like they stuck

The driver like my idol

That's the only bitch I can't touch

These **** is not me

These **** is not Gee

Got blow pack, got roxys

Got weed stems, some boxed gin, I'm top ten

Yeah, go catch one and get locked in

Got outta line and get knocked in

In my city, I'm top ten

I'm one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine

With a white boy snortin' H lines

In the side county, **** can't find

With a .45 on my waistline

Like fuck next, I'm lit now

Cross door, I'm big slime

I'm still slidin', I'm rich now

Everybody gotta pick sides

Took a risk to hold up my wrist high

My lil' brother took six lives

He a lil' **** but look 6'5"

Can the opps say that they didn't hide?

Yeah