[Verse 1: Dys Davinci]

Dead bitch in a Chevy trunk with her side nigga and a stepson

When her legs upped, what was sealed broke, now her other laying with a sketched tongue by a dead son

If 12 comes, we went out of town in two separate cars, and she left, uh-

To get a different purse, cause what she had was jacked, fore we fled the

Floor, cause we almost missed the check out time

Pray to god, no one heard the lead bust

But no neighbors complaining, it’s been a few hours

All will be sweet when I smoke on this sour

You read my face and can't tell my intentions

Description is glistening retinas from loud that I mixed with some powder

I'm itchin' to kill like the heels of Godzilla's in poisonous flowers

[Chorus: Dys Davinci (BigSPLATT)]

When there's treason, there's no speaking

No wrongdoing, there's no pleading

No dishonor, there's no bleeding

You don’t start shit, then there's no the end

There's no sneaking, there's no creeping

There's no speaking, there's no wheezin'

There's no blaming on the seasons (yuh)

There's no lash if there's no reason (yuh)

[Verse 2: BigSPLATT]

Choppin' bodies, watch the blood spill

She was unfaithful, so I had to go get the kill

Think we violent? Fuck yo' opinion

Bitch, we loose screws, nigga we'll shoot at civilians

Pull up to her house, douse her couch in some gas

Lit my blunt first, then I watch her soul pass

Pull up to her house, douse her couch in some gas

Lit my blunt first, then I watch her soul pass, get 'em!

[Chorus: Dys Davinci]

When there's treason, there's no speaking

No wrongdoing, there's no pleading

No dishonor, there's no bleeding

You don’t start shit, then there's no the end

There's no sneaking, there's no creeping

There's no speaking, there's no wheezin'

There's no blaming on the seasons

There's no lash if there's no reason

[Verse 3: LP Rambo]

It ain't up to me, these bullets will pick 'em

My niggas is dogs, I tell they ass: ''sic him!''

He was a G, but now he a victim

We bout to spin on that block and then blick him

Blick him, blick him, blick him, blick him

You love these hoes? We be tryna' trick 'em

Ain't dropping a dime, not even a nickle

Left on the floor, he smelling like pickles

Girl I'm a auto, that boy a lil' pistol

He never once had his prints on them pistols

You hit my gas, it might have you tripping

Might feel like a hit in the chest from a missile

Missile, missile, missile, missile

Gotta talk big, I ain't come here for little

He acting hard, but he really brittle

It's me and then him, but the heat in the middle

[Chorus: Dys Davinci]

When there's treason, there's no speaking

No wrongdoing, there's no pleading

No dishonor, there's no bleeding

You don’t start shit, then there's no the end

There's no sneaking, there's no creeping

There's no speaking, there's no wheezin'

There's no blaming on the seasons

There's no lash if there's no reason