AK-47

[Hook: $ha Hef]
That AK-47 make him shit his pants
Them bullets ricocheted and they gon' hit ya mans
And if I make the call then they gon' hit ya fam
My nigga that's your bitch, then why she whipping grams

[Verse 1: $ha Hef]
I heard you niggas getting bread, I got that butter man
That chopper st-st-stutter man, just like the dutter man
The rubber band man, wild as the Tabliban
9 in my Caravan, cocaine avalanche
That boy dead, ain't no need to call an ambulance
I hit him with the bat and ram, he did the hammer dance
Still getting money, move it hand to hand
Revolvers never jam, popping Xannies in a candy-land
The candyman, sipping that purple rain
My life is perfect, was birthed on a turf when I earned my stain
Put the work on the flame, smell the burnt cocaine
Watch 'em search for veins, selling Kurt Cobain
Yeah I learned the game, get the money, never search for fame
From these worthless names and these serpent dames
Know we 'bout that action, got the grip for the traction
Bitch what's bracking, while the money still stacking
And the drugs still taxing, Benji macking
All the work, I'm in traffic, got the mask with the 'matic
Down for the static, gotta move like a savage
Got the pounds in the attic, dead cause he ratted

[Hook: $ha Hef]
That AK-47 make him shit his pants
Them bullets ricocheted and they gon' hit ya mans
And if I make the call then they gon' hit ya fam
Nigga that's your bitch, then why she whipping grams
That AK-47 make him shit his pants
I pull a heater out and give your bitch a tan
I point it at the crowd and let it hit ya clan
Nigga that's your bitch, then why she whipping grams

[Verse 2: Da$H]
Still the same nigga bumping Flocka tracks
'Til my mama [?]
Rolling pack, asking where the hoes is at, 'bout to make it brack
You know I never lack, tight nigga get your [?] snatched
Got some dough to cash, sly and from the Sack
$ha said he gotta owe to match, the hoe rolling it
My nigga what's the word, said what's the word
In the street my nigga, fuck the curb
Used to ditch class, had to cluck to serve
Now I make racks off of fucking verse
Blackout Boyz, bitch I'm already dead
Hope every cop take a slug to the head
Motherfuck the government, motherfuck the system
Motherfuck the judge who got my niggas in the prison
Shout out to my niggas making living in the kitchen
Said he was a hitter but he got caught slipping
Pussy nigga riffing, shooter steady itching
10 O'Clock news, got somebody child missing
School on lock so I never really listened
Only thing I heard when I tried to pay attention was
(yeah so, yeah so, so, yeah, so yeah, yeah)
Money, money, drugs, bitches
Fuck the law, wig snitches
Kill your enemy, steal the riches
That's why I say we different
My niggas start wyling, y'all niggas start dying
Your mama start crying, you hearing them sirens
Swear to the science, y'all niggas see Zion
Feel like a tyrant, best in the game, bitch I'm feeling like Brian
Yeah so, walked through the door, said it before
H'z the clique, bitch you already know
In that white cup is four of that pour
OG and Sour, no pass me no dro
Walked through the door, said it before
Black Market Mob just showed up to the show
Look at the set, all you seeing is 'lo
Came for the globe, nigga act like you know

[Hook: $ha Hef]
That AK-47 make him shit his pants
Them bullets ricocheted and they gon' hit ya mans
And if I make the call then they gon' hit ya fam
Nigga that's your bitch, then why she whipping grams
That AK-47 make him shit his pants
I pull a heater out and give your bitch a tan
I point it at the crowd and let it hit ya clan
Nigga that's your bitch, then why she whipping grams

[Outro: $ha Hef]
Smoking dope, selling weight
Boosting up the murder rate
Smoking dope, selling weight
Boosting up the murder rate
Smoking dope, selling weight
Boosting up the murder rate
Smoking dope, selling weight
Boosting up the murder rate
Smoking dope, selling weight
Boosting up the murder rate
Smoking dope, selling weight
Boosting up the murder rate
Smoking dope, selling weight
Boosting up the murder rate