Out My Business

[Intro: Biggs & Masoe]
Come on now....AH!

[Verse 1: BandGang Masoe]
5'4 with more heart than the biggest tho
Don't let it go, we steady go and lettin' triggers go
That's your hoe, yeah I know, still gotta fuck her though
We all ballin', shit feel kind of like the Rucker though
Close to a deal but sick I had to lose my brother though
Nindo, all I know need cheddar tho
Mill's voice man, the pigs will never let 'em go
Life, leave your bitch ass on ice
Get into it broad day you'll be dead by the night
Went to sleep, woke up to news man this shit don't seem right
[?] I'm off a four, juice washin' down the rice
Buffs on, dark tint, I'm just dimmin' down them lights
Bitches bout that fuckin' life, they know what them hunnids like
I can do this in my sleep this shit really somethin' light
Sorry mama I ain't right, I'm just caught up in the life
But uh, bitch get out my business I ain't ask you

[Verse 2: BandGang Biggs]
Back the fuck up, all these bands gave me the cash flu
Call Rose, tell that nigga bring the bags through
But you wouldn't know about that though, you too fragile
Run up on some stupid shit and get the Mac drew
You a stupid nigga I wouldn't even put it past you
My lil' niggas poppin' pills like they cashews
I can't even blame 'em, they pop them and act casual
Rose playin' so I had to get the bag flew
Choppin' down bowls, seen more sticks than a bamboo
Now I'm going on vacation out in Cancun
Just to show you broke ass niggas what them bands do

[Verse 3: Bandgang Paid Will]
Them bands buying bowls and bitches bags
Runnin' off with mine, I'm sendin' Mone to go get his ass
Garbage bags filled with cash, bitches think it's trash
In the hallways grabbing ass, I was missin' class
But the streets taught me well, always keep my scale
Thinkin' bout Dotts, we was just riding, hitting sales
Real niggas up in heaven, pussies go to hell
Glock with the beam, plus the clip in it long as hell
Good Larry and Cuz got blow for sell
Hook hit the stash just know a nigga makin' bail
But bitch get out my business, I ain't asked you

[Verse 4: Bandgang Lonnie Bands]
Aye, bitch why you all in my shit?
Matter fact, thousand pills can you stuff all this shit
Meanwhile the hood hot, the FEDs sliding down
Nigga they'll erk off this bitch, we'll chop 'em down
Last dummy slid down, put his chopper down
Nigga touch me then we comin' at your mama now
This ain't a fairytale, we got a bottle, every bale
We got 'em comin' through the mail, bitch UPS ringin' bells
Aye, nigga what's the problem?
Get 'em Bandman, nigga I got 'em
We got the oil base, they got the spoiled face
Nigga I know they hate, nigga I know I'm great
These niggas say they kill they just really acting
Boy, your ass need some target practice
Boy, get out your feelings before you get blasted

[All together]
Bitch get out your feelings I ain't asked you