Awful Lotta Blues

[Intro: Duffy]
Shit, boogie down your block, ayy, shit
Four hundred shots for an opp, shit ([?])

[Chorus: Duffy]
OTM, we'd boogie down your block
Ridin' 'round, we got at least four hundred shots for an opp
Juice cups and 30 sticks, ain't no stock in my Glock
You know I'm gassin' foreigns, ain't gon' slow down or stop
Both pockets full of knots, breadwinner, see my loaf?
That's his street? Tape it off, and Nina Ross, she finna blow
He said, "Fuck the gang" on Instagram, but he ain't really on that, though
Enough talk, an awful lot of blues on me, what we on?

[Verse 1: DuseThaJoynt]
Told Duffy I sport a watch and grab him up, what we on?
Go and Cash App the jeweler, but I wanna put it on
F&N shells gon' knock a nigga in his cheekbone
Foul on the play, I dribble up and get my free throws
Had to take it back to back and blew my money like it's nothin'
I'm still up a loaf, I know these niggas' chest hurtin'
I'm in this Benz coupe, I'm poured, juice spillin', I'm swervin'
Bend the corners in the Benz, the windows down, I know they heard me
Slime a HAM nigga, opp fratenizers get the boot
He just post blick, but when he in the field, he not gon' shoot
I don't fight niggas, I'm quick to tell a nigga we could hoop
And he be walkin' 'round with fake watches on, that shit doo
It's not no rental, lil' bitch, but for skits, don't mind it
If I do, this a two-seater, I'm smashin', bleedin' traffic in the coupe
I keep toolie as I'm Mad Max, I'm bustin' out the roof
Ain't no new niggas around me, yeah, the slimes with me too

[Verse 2: Blue Pesos & Duffy]
It's the mob against the world, these other rappers Duke Luke
Two fat daddies on me when I step up in the booth
If he ain't tryna pay his dues, then taste the bottom of my shoe
Redrum all on the floor, couple hundiddies too
He ain't on shit, though
I was only two years old when I learned to tiptoe
My hand was always in the cookie jar
Bah bap, grab the stove, and the getaway was flawless
I'm a loose cannon, so proceed at your own caution
Niggas swear they hate me, but they really want an autograph
"You know that nigga Pesos stay with a lot of cash"
We'll give an opp a halo and clip his wings
He's a fool for these jewels like I'm Mr. T
Bitch, your head up on the floor before I miss a beat
The chop spittin' down his block, he got missing teeth
I got extensions on extentions, don't play with me (Shit)
Ugh

[Chorus: Duffy]
OTM, we'd boogie down your block
Ridin' 'round, we got at least four hundred shots for an opp
Juice cups and 30 sticks, ain't no stock in my Glock
You know I'm gassin' foreigns, ain't gon' slow down or stop
Both pockets full of knots, breadwinner, see my loaf?
That's his street? Tape it off, and Nina Ross, she finna blow
He said, "Fuck the gang" on Instagram, but he ain't really on that, though
Enough talk, an awful lot of blues on me, what we on? (What we on?)