[Intro] Yeah, na-na-na, ayy, yeah Free my dawgs and free my— Uhhh, oh, yeah It get real, nigga 3M, R.I.P. the real, nigga Gun up on my waist, so don't come near me See, all that talkin' got your homie hit severely Don't claim your ass 'cause we both know you're there rarely 3M, yeah, uh, gang
[Chorus] Gun up on my waist, so don't come near me See, all that talkin' got your homie hit severely Don't claim your ass 'cause we both know you're there rarely That block is dead, I made them pussy niggas fear me Yeah, don't need no deal, them streets hear me And they don't know how much a nigga makes yearly If you owe me money, don't be spendin' unless you clear me A quarter ticket got these diamonds dancin' clearly
[Verse 1] Yeah, fake love, I see it clearly They claim they slide but we both know my block is scary I keep a shooter right beside me, always near me My back hurts from all the weight a nigga carries See, that money call, I'm in a hurry I sleep late, but I just gotta get up early 2Milly always got a .30, I call him Curry You want a verse? You might aswell just send a birdy Ask about me in my city, bitch, I get racks Uh, his homie died but there's no get back I keep a gun up on my waist to watch my head back I don't diss the dead 'cause I'm just tryna get the next pack
[Chorus] Gun up on my waist, so don't come near me See, all that talkin' got your homie hit severely Don't claim your ass 'cause we both know you're there rarely That block is dead, I made them pussy niggas fear me Yeah, don't need no deal, them streets hear me And they don't know how much a nigga makes yearly If you owe me money, don't be spendin' unless you clear me A quarter ticket got these diamonds dancin' clearly
[Verse 2] Yeah, they want me dead and I'm like, "No way" You ride for me, I ride for you, man, it goes both ways I call the plug, I need a crate, I want like more than one Collectin' money, I made a killin' on the 401 I rather get the bag 'cause partying is no fun Them niggas slip over a bitch, them niggas so dumb And you ain't sick, and Roney's shit, them niggas both bums Chinks want smoke, but he got no lungs And I'm the man up on my block, you do them store runs You strike a opp like where I'm from, and that's a home run Them brand new sneakers on my feet, I hope he don't run Like he had money, now he dead, we're like a GoFund
[Chorus] Gun up on my waist, so don't come near me See, all that talkin' got your homie hit severely Don't claim your ass 'cause we both know you're there rarely That block is dead, I made them pussy niggas fear me Yeah, don't need no deal, them streets hear me And they don't know how much a nigga makes yearly If you owe me money, don't be spendin' unless you clear me A quarter ticket got these diamonds dancin' clearlyTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
