[Intro]

(Damjonboi)

[Verse: TrDee, StanWill & BabyTron]

ShittyBoyz, DogShit Militia, bitch, act like you know

Yeah, I see you pulled up to the club, but what you finna throw?

Shit, boy, you ain't throwin' nothin'

At least a Benji in my whip, the chopstick hold the hundred

Why you approachin' us like that? You must be smokin' somethin'

The way I know the game, you'd think I was the coach or somethin'

Shot him from the corner like he had a scope or somethin'

Think he gettin' high, lil' brodie sippin' Robitussin

Gang are masked up like it's Halloween and shit get more than scary

Bitch a model with exotic, ain't shit 'bout me ordinary

Tryna overdo it, takin' boomies while I torch the cherry

Hutch or Icebox, I can't even fake it like I'm sporting Gary

Locked in, I'm on game seven type of time

Ain't got no hustle 'cause you steady runnin' from the grind

You runnin' from the grind, I run into them dollar signs

Lil' brodie crashin' out, I need to teach him how to drive

School of aviation, swear shit's taught us how to fly

Effortless my middle name, I don't even know how to try

Talkin' 'bout three-hundred for a feature, finna ho this guy

If he see just what his bitch be doin', it's gon' hurt his eye

Shit, the bag I'm in so deep, I might get lost up in it

Fuck a bitch and act like I don't know her, think I caught dementia

Thirty for a verse, lil' bitch, I talk expensive

You the type to never slide down, but'll type the longest message

Doggy think that he a stepper, boy, you ain't Columbus Short

Bitches white-black, salt and pepper, ballin' like I play a sport

He keep thinkin' he a G, that's what the K is for

Brodie chuck the deuces to the deuces, now he facin' fours

I don't play the four, I'm a point god

Balaclava season, it ain't shit to get them boys robbed

[Outro: BabyTron]

ShittyBoyz, DogShit Militia

Balaclava, balacla—, uh