Jumpout Gang

[Intro]
(C'mon BMO)
CCK in this bitch nigga, FG

[Verse]
Trooper got behind us in the strike but we start switching lanes
Switching many strands, I stuff the backy with four different names
The button roll, I seen ya homie trip but I won't say his name
That shit a go, you in they pics we crop you out the frame
If **** say let's wrap a nigga up, I bet he feel the flame
I put SG inside that V, you might as well call it game
The fully chased a rapper nigga down and now he in the grave
His homie dropped a diss and ain't get back, I know you feel ashamed
Free pistol P the MVP, he in there doing stabbings
I tap that button, let it roll and turn that nigga past tense
Jump out ARP, he ain't do the job so now my glizzy rapid
He seen them c's and tried to up, he died before I tapped it
And bro just came on fighting bodies like he Randy Savage
Hop out chasing niggas down the block, tryn see who run the fastest
He overcooked, it's time to swap out for another pistol
I think I might go with the 10 cause it shoot baby missles
Keep on sending threats through Instagram like we can't get up with you
The shots on went off bro got so close he could've fuckin' kissed you
Fully put his face into his lap before he hit the spital
We made it back, then rolled him up and made that pack official
I put a box on, back the Glock and then start shooing rapid
I'm with them C's, they hop out clappin', bitch we give out caskets
I send my drops to get that drop, they came back with a basket
Thought he made it home, but seen a ghost and end up like the last one
He tried to run, ain't make it far, I watched that switchy tag him
And that's the drought on all the bowls so now Lil Saany taxin
Back to spinning blocks, tryn catch a hat and seen a nigga lackin
Reaper cracked the door and hit him twice, I watched him body bag him
You catch a opp, stand over top until he lose his face
He said my homie name inside his song and that shit got him baked
We hop out clappin', watch him trip & wet him like a lake
Trollin' on the gram, don't get you shit, but shots from out the Drac
Bullets get to flyin', back & forth he tryna duck shots
50 glizzys all at one crib, like this the gun shop
Mike Amiri stuffed with stupid bands, bitch I got dumb knots
And I don't even want to go in the crib unless my gun hot