[Verse 1: ChrisBands]

Bro a crashout, he spin through bare face

CB on that court, let's play ball

Boy it's game day

New wave, I ain't tryna horse wit' it, it's pay day

Try to push up on me, nigga you gon' die the same day

Send him to the heaven gates, for all the shit he sayin'

Them niggas keep dyin', I guess they all have the same fate

G-lock on my body and a pokey for the melee

Bullets playin' tag wit' niggas since they wanna play games, like

Yo Stacks suit up, I'm tryna go patrol

That dead nigga don't hit no more

Don't pass me him, you rolled a float

They know we up

Like we could go band for band or pole for pole

Puttin' batteries in niggas backs like a remote control

Like word to bro, time to show these niggas that they touchable

Pause though, but we was on they block lookin' for couple Folks

Also we aim for heads, nigga we don't aim for toes or torso's

Was on they block like four deep wit' four poles

Fuck every opp, tell them niggas suck a hunnid fuckin' dicks

.40 on my waist, it do the job, I'm too in love wit' it

Chase him wit' the beam, how the fuck is you gon' run from this?

Bend through niggas blocks wit' new poles, I'm tryna up this bitch

Like niggas survivin' head taps? That's just dumb as shit

So I told bro to make sure that he dead, you gotta dump the clip

On that court we eight for eight, them niggas like one for six

They don't ever play they block

I guess they really love they crib

[Verse 2: EthoSuave]

Like, them niggas know what we be doin' to 'em

They players warmin' up the bench

When we gon' get to hoopin'?

On bro we real life had no V, we bent on feet and trooped it

We torchin' niggas for our block, they think we just do music, like

We don't talk 'bout all the trips we take

We go on that mission, it's complete, I feed my shooters steak

Posted in the 8 or you can catch me in the zoo wit' Apes

Yeah we ball for Ju, I blow the chop until it fuckin' break

Remember we don't play, we frontline for real, this not for fake

Niggas broke by choice, it's like a million ways to make this pap'

We stocked up on corn

I load the clip, this food gon' eat his face

Catch him out of bounds, we back him down and make him choose his fate

[Verse 3: Stacks BW]

Like

And we keep spinnin' tryna hit heads

.380 get to bussin', pencil clips we tryna send lead

They keep askin' why I tweak so much, I prolly gotta take meds

On that block without no G, remember, we comin' to hit dreads

Like, and we give hot shells like it's tacos

Better pray to Allah, when we comin' thru' we hittin' tops, so

Dreads be coverin' my eyes, I gotta move 'em when I flock though

Wonder why we call QB a quarterback? 'Cause he throw shots though

Glah nigga

[?] up, now I'm tight

Bro made 20k off Chev', if you want bready come get right

We tryna get up in his face, I don't think my .40 heard you right

And they keep askin' what happened to that boy, he got sent up like a kite

And my lil' bro's will get you right, you get stained if you ain't one of mines, you should've knew that twice

Sha shh, when he died, just know I smoked a blunt all night

And thye keep bookin' all the bro's when they ome home we livin' life nigga

Glah nigga