Rumors - Intellectual

[Intro]

(Tay Keith, fuck these niggas up)

(DJ Meech, lil' bitch)

[Verse 1: Lil Durk]

Them niggas get on y'all ass, y'all play with me like I ain't worse

Tryna gossip up the blogs like y'all ain't said my name first

He a junkie, he ain't shot his gun yet, he blame Percs

Shot a video and had a shootout in the same shirt

What you know 'bout poppin' out and tryna hit they face first?

They like Smurk, "Your ass be trippin', better put your case first"

Chokin' who? I heard them rumors, niggas better play slow

I don't want no niggas who you catch, I want the one I paid for

We on his ass, he in the A, you see how long they stay for

Ain't no hotel room, we pop outside the Hyatt with Dracos

Hellcats, they get off any scene, the police chase those

Trollin' ass, we shot your homie, we ain't know he can take those

If I say your name, don't post it, opps be on all kind of shit

Ain't got time to watch your page to see if niggas died or shit

I know bitches set you up, literally, niggas dyin' to hit

In this industry ain't what it seem, this shit be counterfeit

Ain't no lackin', she say I'm a nigga from the trenches with a accent

Why you askin' me who shot your homie, why you askin'?

You got my number, you post shit on the 'Gram, you movin' backwards

You lucky I don't be doin' shit for the 'Gram, you niggas cowards

[Chorus: Lil Durk & Gucci Mane]

Better not believe no rumors, rest in peace to Koopa

I jumped on the school bus and I had brung a Ruger

Always drunk an eight of Act', I never drunk a cooler

They get your location, they might pop outside in Ubers

When his goofy ass jumped in the streets? His ass a hooper

I know this shit don't matter, I took a shower with a cougar

Bring him out retirement, he gon' kill you for that mula

Catch him in the mornin' and wake him up, that boy a rooster (Go)

[Verse 2: Gucci Mane]

He took it to trial, I tried to tell him it was stupid (I knew it)

They gave him so much time, his knees got weak and he was woozy (Damn)

Watch the shit you say, the feds be listenin' to the music (Woah)

And they gon' take your lyrics and build a case and try to use it

D.A. dropped my murder, didn't have evidence to prove it (Nah)

I think my house is haunted, yeah, by who? The ghost of Pookie (Woah)

He ain't killed nobody, but keep rappin' 'bout the shootings (Pussy)

Still ain't got revenge yet, but keep makin' up excuses (Wow)

Cuz done drank so much lean that his gut got big as Gucci's (Lean)

Told him quit while he ahead and don't go out like Whitney Houston (Huh?)

He got caught without it, now they robbin' him for his rubies (Woah)

He wouldn't give it up, so he got buried in his Cuban (It's Gucci)

[Chorus: Lil Durk]