[Intro]

(AyoRay, turn me up)

(Ayo, Tyrell made that ho?)

Yeah, bitch

[Verse]

I'm the man in my city but I ain't the mayor

Joggy Palm Angels, sneaks Christian but I ain't the savior

Up a Curry on your bitch, bet the pape' amaze her

Bitch, you a small fry, your nigga, he a Baconator

I'm a tag popper, you at the mall lookin'

Like we Chinese, if we catch dog, cook him

All my bitches bad, I should give 'em all whoopings

I'm the type to drop fifty, you would get the ball tooken

Flip the fully lever, gotta both hand the Drac'

If I get caught up, I bet my lawyer choke slam the case

In my rap bag, don't think I'm gon' scam today

Matter fact, I'm 'bout to print a check and go scam the bank

Shoot him up, if he don't die, we slidin' with a booster shot

Had to dump the Gen3, I went and bought a newer Glock

Dirty double coffee cup, bro sippin' on a sewer pop

Dilly-ass pendant, boy, you need to get your jeweler shot

Back-to-back Palm Angels joggies but we all demons

Dog Shit Militia, might be skinny but we all eatin'

Goose coat off the Nike Tech, bitch, it's frost season

Fendi tee with the eyeballs, I'm the all seeing

Should I do the plain jane or bustdown Rollie?

Quick to up the big fucker, it get pandemonius

Twin blickies on me, pop out on some Zack and Cody shit

If my mans down, I pick him up, he don't owe me shit

Bet she fuck me and bro, we be parlayin' hoes

Glocky with the red beam, this a Darth Vader pole

A ho gon' be a ho, you can't change her, bro

If you ain't SB to the DSM, you a stanger, bro

(Checkmate, touched a hundred off a DeskJet)

God damn, takin' chunky Triple-S steps

This a Tesla, I ain't gotta make the next left

I be bustin' banks but unc' can teach you 'bout the Rex next

Shit, fuck, damn, bitch neck got my toes twitchin'

I ain't Elmo but you can catch me with some long chicken

Had to block your bitch 'cause she was on my money phone trippin'

They say money talks so when I speak, all the hoes listen

Fee-fi-fo-fum, runnin' in these Track2's

Punch, scam, slide, file claims, I don't trap, dude

Knocked the loose screws off his ass, bitch, we pack tools

Cold Iraq jeans, Iraq sneaks, they a rack too

Right pocket swole, left pocket knotted up

ShittyBoyz do the shittin', know they tired of us

All our bitches rich, might fuck around and Prada us

Anywhere that brodie caught an opp, you know he shot it up

They was lookin' down until I got it up

Shit, fuck, catch him out of bounds, your baby out of luck

Fuck, damn, this a hundred rounder, be done shot a buck

He ain't ShittyBoyz, he ain't around, he can't rock with us

[Outro]

Bitch, yeah

ShittyBoyz Dog Shit Militia, that's on every song

Yeah