Produced by Blocboy

Hah, hah, check it (word) Hah hah hah (yeah yeah yeah), check it (Yeah, yeah) hah, hah (yeah yeah yeah) Hah (Bloc), hah (whoa), hah (word) These niggas after me, I got them shooters on balconies I'm gettin' head from a bitch and she Japanese (word) Niggas they talkin', I'm loadin' and clappin' these Loadin' and clappin' these pistols (pistols) You are not an automatic hitter (a hitter) Really you an automatic misser Fuck it, I'ma automatic get you (huh?) Smack a nigga ass with the pistol (pistol) Pop a nigga ass like a pimple (a pimple) Store-store-store run, get the gun (store run) Up the Tommy, take his funds (he gone) Take the hundreds leave the ones For the strippers nigga (for the strippers) I got an SK with a shank, that's the tipper nigga (that's the tipper) Beat a nigga, sweep a nigga We don't need them niggas (fuck 'em) I don't think you niggas 'bout nothin' (word) When I see you in the street (huh?), you ain't even got a gun Askin' niggas for money (word), nigga you ain't got no funds You know I do it B-I-G, you can call me Big Pun (yeah yeah yeah) But I don't smoke no pom-poms Run up, get done up (word) My clip is so heavy, I can't hold my arm up (my arm up) Y'all niggas faker than warmups (warmups) I got the bread like a farmer (I-I-I-I) Shoot like I'm Mario Chalmers (Chalmers) Workin' my wrist, fuck my arm up (fuck my arm up) I feel like Nash on the Suns, Mario chasin' them coin You dancin', we pull up with guns, I'm 700, you done (Crip, Crip) Got my hitters in the front like a radiator Using big words so you know they annihilate you I'm in her mouth like Now & Laters, bitch I got all flavors Bring that shit back, no turntable Multiply that like times tables We ain't got time for that If you really want a crease, use the iron for that Now a nigga need a piece of his spinal back In a line of MAC's Ke-ke-keep that, keep that iron for that If it's an altercation, nigga we use nines for that We don't do conversations, baby we don't got time for that We ain't got time for that, we ain't got time for that (Hey, wait) We gon' do the ad-libs Tay, told 'em go'n do the ad-libs Klay, I got your bitch callin' me a, bae And I really don't know what to, say I want her head like some motherfuckin' braids And you know I'm finna, ayy, ayy, ayy And I made this beat, ayy Got your bitch and she in the sheets, ayy And we turnt up in the studio Track nation, yeah we live in this fuckin' ho I got your bitch, she tryna book me for a fuckin' show She gon' make you pay for it, and you already know Bitch, I'm live Like Channel Five I just put 'bout a three five In a blunt, now I'm so fuckin' high To the sky though Nigga askin' me these questions, I'm like why though? And my niggas got that money standing five four My money standing six four, I'm in a six four with the loads Crip, Crip, Crip Crip Crip Crip Crip Crip, Crip, Crip, Crip, Crip Crip Crip Crip Crip Crip, bitch