[Chrous: Dys Davinci]

If you steppin’, then run up, don’t do no tiptoe

I heard them pockets is obese, you countin' big rolls

Steady breath until that chopper change your tempo

Set you up for acting, you get robbed out your dineiro

Hoe, you don’t amuse me, we with all the static

Don’t be acting goofy cause we gon' let you have it

And I got my Uzi, raging shit in traffic

Lay low, lay low, want smoke, them bullets matchin'

[Verse 1: Dys Davinci]

I was boolin' with my ratchet, hoping I won’t have to blast it

I was tryna make a change, but these niggas always chatting

They ain’t tryna do no fades, without them arms, these niggas plastic

Putting money on my brain, gon' get your friend inside a casket

Man my Glock don't got a dick, my shit a bitch, that hoe a squirter when I tap it

I be mobbing with some sickos, throw fiestas with a Mac-10

Put your whole block to siesta, pillow talking on a savage

All you’ll see is this bandanna and a flash before your passing

Man I hope you pray to God and you repent for all your sins

Think this the game you wanna play, but I’ma score and take the win

You throwing caution to the wind, I throw a Raw around your friend

We blowing "gotcha!" in the air, you smelling corpse when you walk in

My fucking area, blue tip, the areola of your twin

Get your digits all divided for some fucking dividends

I’m not gon say this shit again, I’m tired of yapping bout you cappin’

But next time you pull up, shoot to kill, I'm only dying laughin'

Don’t be on your socials bragging, when you aim like Shaq at back board

Cause a nigga heart is brick and you just sculpting a disaster

Waiting to happen, when sirens is flashing then niggas dashing right out of the city, it’s really no biggie

Yo shotta big poppa, now you by your dolo, some shit like P. Diddy

[Chrous: Dys Davinci]

If you steppin’, then run up, don’t do no tiptoe

I heard them pockets is obese, you countin' big rolls

Steady breath until that chopper change your tempo

Set you up for acting, you get robbed out your dineiro

Hoe, you don’t amuse me, we with all the static

Don’t be acting goofy cause we gon' let you have it

And I got my Uzi, raging shit in traffic

Lay low, lay low, want smoke, them bullets matchin'

[Verse 2: Kashout Klil]

Lay low, better pray that I don’t catch you

Slide down your block and let them hollow tips stretch you

Shorty, you’se a bop, should’ve knew that when I met you

Almost at the top, this the time that they gon’ test you

Keep a loaded Glock, this bitch always to the rescue

You can’t bring me down, even if I try and let you

I ain’t tryna cuff you, shawty, I ain’t gon’ arrest you

Lot of shit done up in my years I won’t confess to, yeah

And they know how the game go

It’s gon’ be a homicide if you touch my chain, ho

We gon' let that karma fly, hit you in your brain, ho

Leave a nigga traumatized, like he seen a damn ghost

Yeah, like he seen a dead body

We gon’ pull up on a nigga block and shoot like everybody

You can’t catch me lacking, always keep a savage right beside me

Even if I’m dolo, if you run up, you’ll be very sorry

If you run up, you’ll be very sorry

Pockets they on sumo, so my drip is more like a tsunami

I can fuck your bitch and still fuck mine, that’s why I’m very cocky

Bitch, I’m Rambo Gang, you cannot treat me like I’m anybody

[Chrous: Dys Davinci & (Kashout Klil)]

If you steppin’, then run up, don’t do no tiptoe

I heard them pockets is obese, you countin' big rolls (big rolls)

Steady breath until that chopper change your tempo (tempo, oh, oh, oh)

Set you up for acting, you get robbed out your dineiro

Hoe, you don’t amuse me, we with all the static

Don’t be acting goofy cause we gon' let you have it

And I got my Uzi, raging shit in traffic

Lay low, lay low, want smoke, them bullets matchin'