[Intro]

Volume three, not guilty

Drastic Measurez

Yo

Uh-huh

Dinero

[Verse 1]

Came out flooded, earlobes studded

Hood nigga all up in the jump, all stunted

Hopped out the X5 marks in style

Showin' off, Hollywood, red carpet style

Stick up kids, don't think my guards is down

I wasn't a target then, I'm not a target now

Here's a message for you and your partners, clown

Get hype, I got guns that'll calm you down

Try and sneak attack, end up on the floor where my sneakers at

Catch us VIP where the licks and the reefers at

Ballers, ballettes, niggas and señoritas at

Thrown' shots of Bacardi, Henny, and tequila back

Even to the club, I gotta carry the chrome

Get drunk 'til somebody gotta carry me home (Come on)

Wake up with a bad mami after we bone

And of course I wear condoms, I'm accident prone

Escape with my niggas to exchange in the Ford

I bet these broads never seen a whip with so many doors

Look like a high chair sittin' on them five times fours

The inside look like a living room, mahogany floors

Shorties all over like a sweat in the meccas

Even cop holes, I call them the head detectors

They treat us like popstars, brains in the SWAT car

Chokin' on the dick like uh, uh

Plus I'm billingual, quiero chocha, ma

Not one chick told the kid no, uh-uh

I'm the best thing to happen since soap operas

That's why they pullin' on my clothes like, "Don't go, papa"

[Verse 2: Drastic Measurez]

It's nothin' for the kid to cop MJ's and chains

But I'd rather cop them things and cock them things

Superstar, man I pop them things

Leave brains on the dashboard and the windshield of your Range

Y'all niggas is broke, your fake ice don't fool me

I got shirts that cost more than your jewelry

Flip a few O's, drop G's on coochies

That's why the groupies screw me in the movies

Y'all niggas still got rollerblades

I'm in the big body somethin' on rollin' blades

In the trunk is the gauge, in the front, two chickens

Big wheels, rims eleven times two inches

When I hit the club, find two new bitches

Put two bottles of Bell-V in my belly

Bag 'em, jam up, then come to the 'telly

Then I make 'em say my name like Beyoncé and Kelly

And y'all know the routine when I'm diggin' 'em out

6:15, now I'm kickin' 'em out

Don't get mad a couple hood niggas diggin' your spouse

It's off my looks, she don't care what I'm spittin' about

I like all my chicks talented, sick with the mouth

Down to get crunk whenever grass thick in the house

Me and D hoppin' out the six, lookin' crisp, man

Watch look like an ice tray with a wristband

Two hands, Mickey Mouse sit on my stomach

Small faces in my pocket 'cause I been had hundreds

And y'all know I'm holdin' a mini microwave oven

With the dum-dums, in case niggas feel like thumbin'

But I stashed the ratchet, dipped in the latest fashion

Red bandana on, brratin'

Ask and I'll show you what I'm packin'

Poppin', not flashin'

Fuck beefin', though, I'm tryna see what I'm smashin'

When I leave, hatin' ass bastards be askin'

"Yo, how that fat nigga leave with that bad bitch?"

'Cause they love Drastic

D, domination, Don V, superstar and that's it

This a wrap, bitch

[Verse 3: Stack Bundles]

The name Stack Bundles, hoes call me Money a Lotta

She ain't come home, that mean your main honey, I got her

In the back of the PT Cruiser, legs up

Hand out the window, finger at you slacker losers

Know cats like to act so I pack the Ruger

My team them same niggas slung captions to you

Now we young G's, gettin' money South and North

With the snowy white stuff, movin' back and forth

Here's a jewel for you faggots who be mouthin' off

You better save that last breath for later

Ain't no comin' back to life when your ass on that respirator

Mom sad, but she'll be glad you restin' later

I done took a young wild one off the street

I lift you off your feet when I pop the heat

You in a better place now

Your bitch givin' better face now

She lickin' lower than the waist now

And I'm still G walkin', nigga, I stopped dancin'

Sick pair of custom yards, yellow vintage

Tryna find a dime to face me off

And leave nut 'round her mouth like tartar sauce, believe me

Stack's the boss, I call the shots

Never cop from Jimmy Jazz, only bald spots

Player blowin' G's in Macys, I never thought it

And if it came from S&D's, a bitch brought it

I'm a beast ass baller with a vast contract

Sacks, not blower, sixes, hot thrower

Your bitch love Stack, she top me like I know her

And since rap, the chain been rocky like Balboa

And I'm lookin' for some mamis to cross the border

With some snowy white stuff in a fashionable order

Strap pies to her thighs and walk through customs

Straight ride for a gangster, knowin' they might bust 'em

Six four Austin-Healey is how I crush 'em

Young G flossin' daily 'cause it's nothin'

[Outro]

They don't know about the Cross the Border Freestyles and all that

The Grits S-T-A-C-K

Y'all faggot ass niggas can't see me

Shout out to all the Grits Gang and all that, nigga