Club House Killers

[Intro]
(Funk or Die)
(Mmm, TeoILikeThis)
(Heavyweight, nigga)

[Verse 1]
I'm beefin' with some blockers, man, they gettin' at me sideways
I'm lurkin', tryna flip a Sprinter van up on the highway
I'm Sub-Zero with this chopper, freeze a nigga like an ice tray
Can't nobody call my phone and tell me shit, I do it my way
Check my resume, I'm thugged out
Stars in the drug house
Every time they say it's beef with me, they run the clubhouse
Don't let me say it's beef, they hit your street and blow your mug out
The way I work this Drac', they'd probably hide me in a nuthouse
They speak on me so freely, they don't think I know they police
They disrespect, but when I say shit back, them folks get on me
I don't do no back and forth, fuck you and your OG
I'm the type to play it cool and smoke you on the lowkey
These soft-ass niggas picking sides and they don't even know me
I told the bros whoever crack your skull can have my Rollie
I'm tired of niggas speakin' on my business like they with that
Ain't nobody safe, this baby K ain't got no kickback
They thought that boy was sick until the clique gave him a shit bag
We stepped on your stepper, on 3-0, you know who did that
These scary niggas meet some scary niggas, then they clique up
If he running, shoot him in his stomach, niggas ain't gon' get up
When it's going down, nail him to the ground, he can't sit up
Old police-ass nigga talkin' loud, shut that shit up
These niggas talk just like a bitch, how you sit down with a snitch?
Niggas actin' like they active, gettin' extorted by the Crips
On the clique

[Verse 2]
Yeah, come and prove it
You would think I work at FedEx, all these packs that I be moving
I said, "Pull up with a crate," 'cause Percs and drank, I be abusing
And before I hit the booth, I pour a four
Bitch go through my phone like, "Who is this?" Bitch, I don't know
Grew up watching auntie hit the dope, she damn near croaked
I really love your ho, don't gotta ask, she give me throat
And if that lil' bitch broke, can't give me cash, she gotta go
I'm done shootin' threes, get to the paint like I'm Vince Carter
Stank bitch sellin' pussy, that's a fish market
Nigga need to work at Walmart, he always miss targets
Lookin' stupid, rollin' down the window like, "This bitch farted"
Peanut butter on the bread, I like the crunchy kind
In the booth, I pour a deuce, now it's punch-in time
Bro rock extended clips, but shit, it's nuts on mine
Lakers losing every damn game, I be like, "Fuck LeBron"

[Verse 3]
Ayy, we get los, if niggas there, we droppin' every shot
I'm ridin' 'round with Dracy on me, nigga, fuck the Glock
We'll drop you in front the feds, nigga, fuck the cops
Before I wrote a rap, I was fiendin', tryna spin a block
You ain't got no bodies on that side, them ain't your fuckin' opps
Dog got his head tapped, he left without the pop
Only time these niggas droppin' somethin' is when they sippin' Wock'
A hundred fifty shots inside this lo', it's just me and Wop
He survived a headshot, I wish they punched his clock
DJ took his whole kit off, where was your fuckin' Glock?
Ridin' with a bitch that give me drops, she just blew my socks
She a real tweaker, she be cheesin' when she see the opps
What's-his-name just gave them niggas drop, I told that nigga yop
Fuck them fully switches, when we slide, we hit they blocks with chops
They put his picture on TV, he on the 6 o'clock
Any nigga fuckin' with Hayes Money, we gon' get 'em dropped