[Intro]

(Ooh, Stan, turn me up)

[Verse]

If I catch a opp, the chopper singin' R&B

Blickie on my hip, boy, this bitch part of me

They know Militia winnin’, it ain't hard to see

Feel like Moses in that water, up the stick and part the sea

Bro can teach you how to do a hit, he just like Kevin Loan

Mr. Walk You Down, cuddy step, must got eleven toes

Tell a opp, no, we can't dead the beef until you dead and gone

Put it on the floor, say you gon’ knock me off, bet it's on

'Woods back to back, gang some zotti blowers

.308 hit doggie in his top and knocked his body over

In my DM 'bout his bitch, but don't nobody know her

Fordi pourin' Stily up and Jefe brought the Wocky over

Bitches know I play with cheese, all I spеak is papenese

Unc' don't givе a fuck about no MSR, he play with fiends

Ain’t no water guns, but we gon’ wet him up, we spray with these

I learned makin' pape’ as easy as I learned my ABCs

Ganger blowin' zotti by the 'bow, boy, you ain't higher than ’em

Know she like the way them Franklins bust out my designer denim

If they tryna book me for a show, then tell 'em wire chicken

We so motherfuckin' armed, the opps done think a spider bit 'em

Gotta know the buffies came from Hutchie, ain't shit whiter than 'em

Baby askin', "How the fuck he lit, but ain't no lighter with him?"

Boy, this ain't no drill, we catch an opp, gon' let the fire drill him

Let him say it's up with DSM, bet we go higher than him

I just checked my bank account, bitches think I made it out

Showin' gang the way on GPS the way I made a route

You would think this dick got your bitch mad the way I made her shout

You see all my niggas rockin' chains, but ain't no slaves around

Bitch, we dry as hell, all these K's around, huh

He keep uppin' fire, that's amazing, wow, huh

Leave your nose red thinkin' I'ma fade you, clown

Hundred-rounder, pull up thirty thick, bet I bang the crowd

Twenties, fifties, hundreds, bitch, I got the money color coded

Pour the Stily in my Arctic Sun, boy, that's my summer potion

We gon' ball forever, ain't no stoppin', like the buzzer broken

California King, Versace sheets, can't wait to fuck her on it

I just had to grab it, told her that lil' motherfucker pokin'

Hm

Nah, for real, though

Sent a hundred shots and ain't hit nothin', boy, his jumper hopeless

Got a nigga, but I'm rich, so she gon' do her lover bogus

Money ain't the subject of discussion, you ain't talkin' to me

Fuck my ex, but still'll rock a X, I had to Off the hoodie

Catch him out and spark him, watch him crumble, I think dawg a cookie

Quick to up a toy and let it speak, but I ain't talkin' Woody

My new Blickie got a switchie, I can't wait to off the fully

How I see it, he a bitch for real, but you think dawg a bully

Ain't it funny how I pull up cash? She let me dog the pussy

Shout-out to the gang, boy, we was goated when we all was rookies

[Outro]

(Ooh, Stan, turn me up)

Bitch, Dog Shit Militia