God level

God level

Big door

Hall levels

Big bags

Hall metals

Fast lane

No pedals

Dark tint

No schedule

Ten toes

Won’t settle

Ice cold

All kettles

God level

God level

Big up stick my partner

Hit that lick no problem

Whip too fast no honda

 Plug talk back in ghana

Took that trip no sponsor

Brick so white it's contra

Ran through packs like contra

Beam on top that llama

Drip on drip no water

 Stay on go no drama

VVS dance like salsa

Shoot like I'm from sparta

Trap jump hard no harder

Came up now I’m smarter

 Stick talk sound like carter

Chrome on me no armor

Boom boom that’s that shot

Boom Boom ran his spot

Boom Boom don’t get got

Boom Boom masked up glock

Boom Boom wrist on flock

Boom Boom paid that cost

If his ass get caught

You know that’s that shot

“Umm mother fucker, that’s an mother fucking shot ****, shit over the trees huh”

Bro he sip that hemron

Wrist too cold that gem on

Blick don’t talk no incom

 Streets too loud I been on

Spent that check no coupon

Shooter move like recon

Face get lit no neon

Everybody know what we on

How the fuck you gon kill for your brother if the killer ain’t dead yet

Sayin all that pain in your heart but your eyes don’t shed sweat

How you claim you slid for the block but your feet ain’t bled yet

 All them lies sound good in the stu but your opps ain’t fled yet

Tatted up that name on that skin but you ain’t got revenge yet

Talkin all tough all that talk but your post got left on read next

Whole block still waitin on smoke, but your stick ain't revved yet

Momma still be cryin in church but your soul ain't fed yet

Bitch **** what you waitin on my clique make red necks

Catch him lackin broad day now his white tee got red specks

Hollows eat through vests I ain’t impressed with no thread checks

Slid through with that cutter now his face missin like FedEx

If a **** try and get at me we aim straight for his cousin

We don’t do no warnin shots we just up sticks and rush in

Brodie keep that fire tucked he pop out like it’s nothin

All that dissin shit now your auntie miss her youngin

Better watch your words fore your shirt turn to an oven

 I don’t talk bout scores I let killers do the judging

We don’t shoot from far away we like to see who touchin

Blicky got a nose on it i’ll sneeze it like it's snuffin

 I ain’t never call for help I send shooters in dozens

Ain’t no mercy when we come we take lives then we tuck it

Told my youngin if he miss, spin again, no discussion

If he hide out in his mama crib we press the button

Say it's smoke? We gon leave his body slumped and dunk it

You ain’t built? For this side you gon fold under somethin

Opps go ghost! When we slide like they heard death was comin

Glock hit loud! Like thunder we made his soul start jumpin hold on