Music Video

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Meek Mill
Meek Mill
Performer
Cash Money Records
Cash Money Records
Remixer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Meek Mill
Meek Mill
Songwriter

Lyrics

[Verse 1]
You fuck around and get smoked
You fuck around, you fuck around
You fuck around and get smoked, ****
You fuck around and get smoked
[Verse 2]
Uh, **** know the rules in my hood
If you touch me, you get murked
We ain't with that back and forth
It ain't no rap, we hitting first
G5, we'll be at Liv by Sunday when you in a church
Mama stressing, selling dinner platters
Tryna pick your casket and get your hearse
Last **** that slid on us
Got dropped on and he told on us
E'ry **** you see with me got ice on, bankrolls on us
Nah, ****, no one-on-ones
We don't fight fair, we just roll on 'em
VS stones and Cuban links
All that ice real with that gold on 'em
We ain't swinging no flag, ****
We don't need no pass, ****
Glock 40 with a thirty clip and a laser on it
Play tag with us
E'rybody wanna talk bricks
Till them feds swoop in and grab ****
Dream Chasers got into something
We don't never bleed 'cause we trash ****
[Verse 3]
I don't know if y'all heard
About my homie do when that thirty out
D and Buck still in the cut
And the state finna let Ernie out
I ain't even gotta say nothing
'Bout my other homie that you heard about
'Cause if he heard about that you run your mouth
He come to your house and start swerving out
Catch me, NYC, out Shadyville, I'm in the tank
Only time it's Manhattan
When I'm in the booth or I'm in the bank
Summertime, it's La Marina with Dominicans going in the paint
Pulling up, screaming out, "Dímelo"
Catch you in Brooklyn, get pita rolled, pussy
[Verse 4]
Fuck around and get smoked
You fuck around, you fuck around
You fuck around and get smoked, ****
You fuck around and get smoked
You fuck around, you fuck around
You fuck around and get smoked
[Verse 5]
**** say me and Sosa beefing
But we both eating, but only one keeping
Told Law he'd take fifteen years
Every crime we did, we gon' keep it secret
Can't tweet Teyana, crop a **** looking
So what I'm on, gotta keep it secret
That face, no Stevie, no Mimi, I promise Teyana
That I won't leak it
Grip the .30, just cashed out
If you caught stripping, then you assed out
I'm the same **** my city ask about
While you in the cut, steady buying clout
Fuck the judge, let nine out
Hairpin trigger, let nine out
Four birds in the trap like four wings
At Harold's with fries covered in mild sauce
Every time a **** rap beef
Get clapped up in a couple weeks
IG comments and a couple tweets
Location on, we can go and meet
Headshot, I'm outta town
I'm in Killadelphia with my **** Meek
Pop a wheelie in NYC
I got the thirty on with my **** Fleek
Heard Tyga sneak dissing on me
Telling thot bitches I'm not right
Tyga only got one name, but that **** ain't got one stripe
He backpack, so easy to get that ****'s shit snatched
Ask Marley Marl to get his shit back
It's Chiraq, don't come here
You ain't from here, don't come here
'Cause shorty sniping, bag on him if he don't like us
No Young Chop, but that .40 bangs just like him
.30 punch like Tyson
Back to the rap flow, hot shit
Fuck I gotta rap for, got bricks
Every city I go, got sticks
Pockets Wells Fargo, no bricks
Say I'm on top now, no shit
You can never say I wipe shit
I don't even like shit, I just pipe shit
One-night shit
LA with killers and thuggers
New York, Slow Buck, them my brothers
ATL with Migo and Young Thugger
We gon' shoot shit up in public
And they got a urge to take
Chiraq, look at the murder rate
Five hunnid dead bodies, better go and get money
'Fore you be on First 48
[Verse 6]
He wear red bottoms and Phillip Lim
E'rybody tryna get a hold of him
Bad bitches, they be in bands
I knock 'em down like bowling pins
Feds snatch me, I don't know them
Real **** on four and them
Young Jefe, the new soldier slim
Hanging out the tank with Slow and them
Come take a trip to DC
Hear a lot of me, see GG
I'm the big dog, I'm ringing off
I'm like Mambo sauce on a three piece
Glizzy, why you ain't DC?
Who said I ain't in DC?
Fuck your bitch to my CD
She let me record her like Mimi
A **** playing, it's lights out
Ooh, Shyne got me iced out
Stay low 'cause the mice out
You only get fly when the mic's out
Couldn't wait till it get nice out
Told Chino, "Bring the bikes out"
Got fifty guns in my trap house
You better off fucking with the White House
I'm the realest youngin' in the fucking world
I got plenty money, I got plenty girls
Got a villa for the week, got fifteen freaks
And they all wanna go for a fucking swirl
Had a chrome Taurus with the marble pearl
Glock 23, treat her like my girl
.357, that bitch just twirl
Make him catch all the shit like Fitzgerald
[Verse 7]
You fuck around and get smoked
You fuck around, you fuck around
You fuck around and get smoked, ****
You fuck around and get smoked
You fuck around, you fuck around
You fuck around and get smoked
Written by: Meek Mill
instagramSharePathic_arrow_out