[Intro]

(Ay, hold on, hold on, gang)

(Ay, ay, ay, ay)

(What the fuck goin' on nigga)

(Run that back Khi)

(Gang, ay)

[Quin NFN]

Beam on the Glock, I play tag when I get 'em

Smoking on Runts got me laughing, I'm ticklin'

My youngins gon' dumb, they gon' crash when I send 'em

I'ma tack a few gnats, have 'em back when I hit 'em

[TME Trigga]

He don't want beef, but you say he a hitta

Not enough dope, so we gotta remix 'em

We shoot some shots, and smashed off in the Sprinter

He run "too fast", but these bullets gon' get him

[Quin NFN]

Ding dong, we ring his block means we hate him

Ching chong, she sling the cat like like I ate it

Ring tone, full of that dope cause I made it

Ping pong, she eat the balls when I spank it

Peephole gon' shoot, niggas knowing that's facts

And I ain't got a wife, with a cake in my back

Hit the corner with bro, look like Kobe and Shaq

Lotta cheese like Velveeta, to go with these MACs

[TME Trigga]

I got a shoota, he only attack

I hit 'em once, and they never come back

Niggas get mad when they stuck in the back

He was just trappin', until he got jacked

Where I come from nigga, you never lack

I sent the Russians to get me a sack

These bullets miss 'em, we gotta spin back

Bitch we gon' slide with you, know that's a fact

[Quin NFN]

Made me a mil', so I ride with that tool

These niggas cap, but ain't graduate school

That keef be on fire, make him jump in his pool

And I just slide slide for them racks, 50k just don't shoot

[TME Trigga]

Choppa 16, but he still make the news

Bro a mechanic, he stay with the tool

You moving too slow, how you looking confused

Try one too hard, you gon' fuck round and lose

I've been leaning all night, and I just poured a deuce

And my shootas gon' shoot, when he hang out the roof

Beat up a pack, bitch I'm trap money Bruce

Talkin' bout robbing me, must be a fool

[Quin NFN]

Ay bitch I slide for my nigga

He got more shots than some liquor

Hop out you an op for some dealer

Candy paint Sprinter, gang know I'm hot in the winter

Lotta rocks, make a young nigga shiver

Make 'em pop like Tigga, whole lotta shots we deliver

Play around, and get popped for that skrilla

She white not vanilla

My Glock got a dick, like my gender

He play, we gon' give him his issue (gang)

[TME Trigga]

Ay, these niggas really ain't thuggin'

I see your face, no I ain't sayin' nothing

We can't find him, so we went for his cousin

He is not wit it, I know that he bluffing

They know I'm hot, like I came out the oven

He thought it was what it was, but it wasn't

I can't tote pistols, with less than a dozen

[Outro]

(Ay, bitch)

(Real, Trap, Shit)

(That's it)