Featured In

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
FBG Murda
FBG Murda
Performer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Cayto Rivers
Cayto Rivers
Composer
Finn Sutton
Finn Sutton
Composer
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Finngotit
Finngotit
Producer

Lyrics

(Damn, FINNGOTIT)
Brrt, brrt, uh
Brrt, brrt, uh, come on, come on
Alright, uh
I'm in the clip ridin' 'round this bitch like I'ma mail you, you follow my route and get sniped (You follow my route and get sniped, woo, woo)
Now I'm a rapper, I been out that car a lil' minute, he still ain't went got him a strike (He still ain't went got him a strike)
This bitch'll jump out your hand 'cause this shit for grown men, gotta make sure you holdin' it tight (Make sure you holdin' it tight, woo)
Bro swung his door, hittin' everything (Grrt), move on the left, I'ma shoot everything to the right (Shoot everything to the right)
On the way back to my bitch, she was mad when I got there, I ain't come home last night (I ain't come home last night)
Wasn't gettin' no pussy, bae, we were just uppin' some buttons, so it was a long-ass night (It was a long-ass night)
**** keep poppin' up dead, got me duckin' my head, think the feds flyin' drones at night (I think the feds flyin' drones at night)
Bump head with some **** I fucked with and it went up quick, we got it on that night (Grrt, grrt)
****, loc it to us and no way we spinnin', forgive me, I really be sinnin' (Bah, bah, bah, bah)
DPD know they ain't props, we be fuckin' up blocks and we actors, fuck with these switches (And we actors, fuck with these switches)
Say what you want and you ain't gotta tell me shit twice, whatever you want, you gon' get (Whatever you want, you gon' get)
And keep all the jokes 'cause we comin', creep up 'bout a post or a comment you made on a diss (A comment he made on a diss)
****, fuck all them guys on that four block, they ain't send no shots, them just a whole bunch of bitches (Them just a whole bunch of bitches)
Catch new B with an old block, ain't have no guap, sign for a whole lot of digits (Sign for a whole lot of digits)
Since a lil' kid, mama knew I was gifted, when **** got older, she knew I was spinnin' (She knew I was spinnin')
Come try to breech me, it's gon' be a killin' (It's gon' be a killin'), Rich, Sack, Baba, and 6 stay with me
Box in the whip, now them **** ain't movin' no more, uh-huh, we done tore up the engine (We done tore up the engine)
One of my hoes tryna link, brought my other bitch with me, she givin' up nothin' but ceiling (She givin' up nothin' but ceiling)
That street shit ain't really 'bout nothin', rap gettin' too easy, labels talkin' 'bout what they'll give me (Talkin' 'bout what they'll give me)
We spinned on his ass, he was dizzy, got hit with too many, had made his dumb ass do the shimmy (Made his ass do the— uh)
Straight off the rip, when he play, I'ma face me a ****, don't come try to get in the blender (Don't come try to get in the blender)
Wanna jump in this shit with them sacks and he don't know how to step, so that's why he up in the wind (That's why he up in the wind)
I was mad ain't do it myself, a opp **** got bailed, tryna spank on the rest of his men (On the rest of his men)
Ain't know who got hit through the tint, I just know he was hit 'cause I see a **** holdin' his chin (See a **** holdin' his chin)
We jump out and chase shit, he tried to run, ain't make it, fell and I shot him again (Bah, bah, bah, bah, bah)
Bro smoke shit like Jamaicans, the last hit was basic, got hit from the neck to his head (Got hit from the neck to his head)
This ho startin' to fuck with my patience, off Jizzle and Pape, them **** top two strand (Top two strand)
If a **** ain't listenin' to Blaze, it's fuck Glenn Way, ****, we'll come bump it again (We'll come bump it again)
I'm in the clip ridin' 'round this bitch like I'ma mail you, you follow my route and get sniped (Follow my route and get sniped, ****)
Now I'm a rapper, I been out that car a lil' minute, he still ain't went got him a strike (Grrt, grrt)
This bitch'll jump out your hand 'cause this shit for grown men, gotta make sure you holdin' it tight (Make sure you holdin' it tight)
Bro swung his door, hittin' everything, move on the left, I'ma shoot everything to the right, **** (Grrt)
Written by: Cayto Rivers, Finn Sutton
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