Abusive (feat. 392 Lil Head & RealRichIzzo)

Skinny died in his sleep, so I pop jiggas (Gotta stay up)

You would think the Glock a freak, how it pop **** (Boom-boom-boom)

Yo' mans died last week, you was in a car wit him

Dame love takin' shots, well we brought the bar wit us (Damn)

Paid, woulda made it far, now he with the stars ****

You know when I pull up 'n shoot, you can't really guard ****

Bitch tryna fuck Lil Head, I got large digits

Got the machine off Izzo, now they car's missin' (We need you ghost)

We gone, we just took a **** Scat, now we all slidin' (Skrrrt)

Forgot who they playin wit', they got Alzheimer's

All my hoes still 30 and up, you fuck all minors (I like MILFS)

Key keep gettin' in bullshit, I gotta call Niyah

Don't need no real estate agent, this Glock gon' put you in yo place (Get it)

It's four choppas in the whip, bitch, we goin' on a chase

I'm gettin tired, man, ain't nobody out on brace

I like hoes that like bitches, I don't want her if she straight

No, that wasn't me that fucked you, did that shit when I was laced (Ha)

Should I rock out with the Glock? Or should I swing the baby drake?

My bitch got a BBL, but she keep pole on her waist

Like it's somethin in his eye, I'll blow him in his face

Bitch, I'm Real Rich, y'all **** broke as hell

In 6th grade, he told on me, man, I know he 12 (You a rat)

You got signed to that label and put on a shelf (You weak as hell)

Izzo Glock keep fallin', bro, put on a belt (Man, put on a belt)

And I done broke my neck in Gucci, think I need some help (Shit)

Went swimmin' in yo' bitch coochie like I'm Michael Phelps (Her shit water)

You know the opps heaven sent like they Keyshia Cole (Them **** dead)

I got these Cubans mixed up, I got Key shit on

Bitch think we hittin' Beni's, eat Pizza Rolls (What the fuck?)

She ain't from the Eastside, these Inkster hoes (These some Inkster hoes)

Twin, he can prolly punch a house, if this piece still on (Bing)

I can't name you after bro, RIP Freaky doe (RIP bro)

They man's died last year, we shoulda been gone

Instead all these old ass **** makin' diss songs (Come get back, bitch)

We ain't in school, how the fuck y'all gettin sent home?

We made his ass "fly high", like he Jim Jones (Ballin')

Cash Gang got a roster full of shooters

Got a room, I been hittin' her all day, I'm abusive

She a Oklahoma bitch, wish I woulda hit her sooner (Get it)

Put some titties on the chop, now this bitch work at Hooters

I ain't have a baby yet, but these rap **** my juniors (My son)

He be rattin' in the hood, call that ****, "Little Stuart"

Right here, we got dog shit, I ain't talkin' bout manure

Heard the feds in the city, I done learned how to maneuver (Move swift)

At the barbeque, I put my chains in the cooler

Call my .30, "Drakeo", it's the ruler

I'm downtown, gettin' a lil' head on a scooter (From a freak)

She got on last year Uggs, I had to boot her

I had to kick that bitch out the fuckin' pad

Don't come over if you ain't givin' ass