Brims in the Spot

{Verse 1: Tazzo B}
Me and my guys gotta make it hot
Callin up Zah he gon clear the block
Heard that these folk niggas talk a lot
Bend my block and you catchin' a couple shots
Tryna spin back, you get laid too
Tryna ball, yeah I wanna play too
Tell your mans Wal Blixk stop chattin'
Leave a hole in his face like a bagel
Please do not run up get done up
Tryna play we gon melt you like butter
In the spot it was me and my brothers
Only the real, I can't fuck with no other
I remember them days in the summer
Juggin and trappin them racks we gon run up
Moving work, kickin' doors for a come up
Play my position I'm posted with guns tucked
And Lil Mori keep talking get hurt too
Keep jackin static get put in the dirt too
If you throw up the L you get murked too
End up like Breez you get put on a shirt too
Tazzo the B on the beat so they envy me
I count up the racks we got plenty B
I don't show no love or no sympathy
And your bitch on my dick she a headache B

{Verse 2: Zah B}
Zah B, I'm back on my bully
My clip is on fully I know the opps hate me
Run down with the 2.5 then I let 2 fly
My gun got no safety
They droppin the hat they dont move Tac
Wal Blixk is not really in the streets
Reef Gz got left in the street there wasn't no beef
I know the folks sick of me
Mar Blixk got booked now look they shook
And they ain't toting no glizzys
Ain't tryna run down these niggas is clowns
And they ain't duck when they seen me
Me and Ty Flex spinning in Ubers
Y'all hatK bitch yall niggas ain't ooters
Uppin' rakes but y'all niggas is losers
Uppin' rakes but y'all niggas is losers

{Verse 3: Knuckles B}
I'll run up in all black, Juda gon toss that
Then I hit his ass with the 4-Mac
Theses niggas is all tac, crippin' we off that
[?] ain't score back
If he M8V3N then we on that
And we all GDK cause you know that we all hat
Three hits knock his ball cap
And niggas say they touched me you know that its all cap
[?] all slap
Fuck getting out the hood, im tryna touch the whole rack
4 deep and we all pack
We jacking QP so you know that we never lack
One shot and it hit his back
Now his body stone cold, dummy boy ain't have a strap
EBK you niggas rat
Now his body stone cold, dummy boy ain't have a strap

{Verse 4: Ty Flex}
Gang, gang, gang, gang
Bullets melt through his face like candle wax
Keep up throwing hatK then you getting whacked
Tell the Kirk suck my dick when you getting back
Wal Blixk dont talk cause you getting slapped
When yall see us you better go chase em laps
[?]
If he dead man down that's a headtap
We finish we left and he getting smacked
The glizzy all right ain't no spinning back
Spin the B or the [?] then you getting whacked
Spin the block with the chop that dismiss you
Got bullets in this chop that'll rip you
Throw a shot for chap, shoot his bitch too
Leave her dad layin down with a pistol
Fuck a issue, watch how I hit you
Watch how I flip you
Ty Flex from the B side
Yall know how I tweak I bend with like 3 .9's
That's chopper bullets
Shots to his chest now his body walking
Now his body talking
Ain't for the talk, have his mom blicking like (GDK)
Do you remember me? You came to my block you got stomped with no arteries
You think I'm retarded B?
This glizzy i'm toting might rip through your arms and knees
Now its back to the street shit
I call up the bloods, I fuck with like 3 crips
Dont mention Ty Flex why the gun?
Hold the big .38 to his lungs
Keep on talking ima shoot him in his lungs
Keep on talking ima shoot him in his lungs (gang)