[Intro]

Gang, gang, gang, gang (Huh)

Gang, gang, gang, gang, gang, gang

[Verse]

[?] free all of my niggas, known for makin' them gangs

And they like Italy folks 'cause they stay with the 'caine

Just stay in your lane before I up this .40 with

Ten less than forty and then take your face from your brain

Your neck from your chain, then get top by your thot

Wait, stop, spaz, pop, on her face is my stains

I stay with the gang, switchin' up lanes off in traffic

My bitch, she ratchet and I'm takin' my aim

Like semi-auto, the 'matic, five-fifty, 4Matic

Them boys causin' a havoc, divide their ass, then subtract shit

Man, you know me, same nigga who used to hit the Drive up

.40, Nin'-thing, .45, who survived?

Fuck that shit, we back out and we hittin' up Cottage, bitch

Poppin' shit, droppin' shit, I just say we bombin' shit

Bitch, I'm that boy that got it, no flodgin' shit

And I been shootin' like James Harden before the Rockets, bitch

Okay, okay, see, we ballin' like KC

So all my boys royal and all our hoes spoiled

Y'all [?], oops, y'all plans foiled

And I got somethin' for you, big hammer, Thor you

You know these hoes adore you when you chase that guwop

When them bands in your bank and all them bands in your shoebox

I'm that mack and you not, sneak dissin', get you dropped

Pull up on you at the light, B.I.G. or 2Pac

Damn, they like, "Who the fuck is that? He ain't got no manners

No respects or no fucks, but he got them hammers"

Bitch, it's Dutcho from the S and I pop them hammers

Rock them hammers, iPhones rock them scanners

When it's beef, calvary for the cattle, though

The Ruger is for the battle, bro, they gotta have them ladders, though

Been OT, check a bag off the Apple store

Then touch down with that check, up next like about a O

Niggas ain't hot for real, I'm just sayin'

I smoke the Tracy with John Wayne Gacy and Satan

And I can't forget Dahmer, he said, "I better eat these boys up

Rip shit, rest in peace these boys up

Gon' decease these boys up"

Morticians and them coroners play with puzzles tryna piece these boys up

And my young gunners gon' dump you, stay poppin' it

These nights, Baby Boy, Christian knees your boys up

No ease, Swizz Beatz, they gon' beat your boys up

Like Timbaland, stomp a nigga out in my Timberlands

Ayy, fuck the opps and they blocks, we ain't gon' play with 'em

In the field with them sticks, do the White Sox play with 'em?

Yeah, I'm pitchin' A balls, spinnin' curveballs

My bitch will fuck, nah, she fuck around spin the curb, y'all

But your lil' bitch goin', I put her in the foreign

Then I swerve off, murk off like, "Sorry, I'm a jerkball"

I know I hurt y'all feelings and shit

Kickstands with the Xans got me feelin' and shit

Niggas paralyzed neck down feelin' this shit

Niggas fightin' bodies even say I'm "killin' this shit"

Who iller than this?

Me and [?], nigga like baby powder

Money talk, Willis Tower

Smokin' Nuski, Diesel Sour

And it's free smoke, you want some? Come get some

My shorties in the field for real like Tim Lincecum

And um, my ice [?] fightin' like Tyson

Michael, beam on the move, so you might glow

Sixty-three grams, six Xans, but that's slight, though

Fiend for the cheese, 'bout the Gs, I'm a hype, oh

I been leanin' and I'm beamin'

With a semen demon and she say her nigga seemin'

Like a model, like a mannequin for Neiman

And my jewelry gleamin', damn, you should've seened it

[Outro]

Huh, let's get it

On foe 'nem, ayy, tell them boys, tell them hoes

Catch up, huh? Hold on

Step on a tomato, lil' bitch, huh, huh

With no mustard, you already know what that means, fuck with 'em

[?], what up? (Gang, gang, gang, gang)

Foe 'nem, I just be fuckin' 'round, though, got [?] in this bitch, too

And this my motherfuckin' city