Check Ups (feat. YTB Fatt & Rob49)

(WhatItDoFlip)

Yeah

Murder man, murder man, I've been talkin' to the devil

Step on shit and get 'em gone, now who the fuck gon' come and help you?

These **** be bitch-made, claimin' they just active like they some steppers

Huh, rich shooter, Christian Dior when I'm steppin', bitch, go get your rep up

He bought a vest, lil' buddy dumb as hell, like I just don't shoot neck up

Drop the pants, huh, we put belt to ass, this shit far from checkups

Suburban my block, ride 'round with a Glock, hot shit, can't wait to catch 'em

Oh, he too bad, he think he steppin', he just met the devil

Uh, I'm in that 'Iami in the C8, ****, we don't use Berettas, we some soul catchers

In my city, if the smoke real, better have that bitch on you if you taking your mama to breakfast

Murder rate risin' in my city, ****, if I point my finger, the Foxes'll catch you

I got that shit on me in traffic with twenty-two thousand, a Glock, and a fuckin' Beretta (Bitch)

The Cadillac truck came with pipes, call this bitch a 'Lac-Hawk slash fuckin' catcher

It give me Trackhawk vibes, body jerk back and forth as I tap the pedal

Know you seen all that shit Bagg gave me in January, spent that shit in January

You ask my city, don't play Fatt Fox with that cheese, he'll get you sent to the cemetery

Murder man, murder man, I've been talkin' to the devil

Step on shit and get 'em gone, now who the fuck gon' come and help you?

These **** be bitch-made, claimin' they just active like they some steppers

Huh, rich shooter, Christian Dior when I'm steppin', bitch, go get your rep up

He bought a vest, lil' buddy dumb as hell, like I just don't shoot neck up

Drop the pants, huh, we put belt to ass, this shit far from checkups

Suburban my block, ride 'round with a Glock, hot shit, can't wait to catch 'em

Oh, he too bad, he think he steppin', he just met the devil

Yeah, I'm in a bulletproof truck right now, still paranoid like they come through cars

I seen a lot of fuck **** get that chalk, get killed or go stop that whore

Fed trippin', they done did some sweeps in the hood, no cap, I'm still comin' (Yeah)

Whoopty-whoop, he just put a fifty on a ****'s top, that's real money

Big VM, real headhunter, slap the shit out a ****, real street pummel

Gotta watch what I say on this song 'cause this street shit real, these **** just rhyme better (Yeah)

When them **** got dropped, ****, I ain't did it (Yeah), we ain't buyin' no bodies, we buyin' titties

Brodie gon' shoot an assist, he a real MVP, nickname Scott Pippen (Yeah)

**** (****)

Murder man, murder man, I've been talkin' to the devil

Step on shit and get 'em gone, now who the fuck gon' come and help you?

These **** be bitch-made, claimin' they just active like they some steppers

Huh, rich shooter, Christian Dior when I'm steppin', bitch, go get your rep up

He bought a vest, lil' buddy dumb as hell, like I just don't shoot neck up

Drop the pants, huh, we put belt to ass, this shit far from checkups

Suburban my block, ride 'round with a Glock, hot shit, can't wait to catch 'em

Oh, he too bad, he think he steppin', he just met the devil