Sprinter

[Verse 1: Reef]
Bitch, I hop in that sprinter took off the top
Pourin' that drink I don't cough a lot
No no no, he's not hard, he's a bitch, he just talk a lot
He don't got no cars in the sticks, so his ass walk a lot
He wanna be me so we walk a lot
Hoes poking condoms, take a hike
Ay, twenty-three Evisu jeans, bitch I'm taking flight
My lil' brother posting guns, we ain't raise him right
Green hundreds so damn old you think them bitch ain't agin' right

[Verse 2: Keeta]
We on tour, finna hop out in that sprinter
Diamonds they colder than winter
Like 24/7 I always been winning
Like 24/7 I hop in the terminal
Hop in the flight 'cause I gotta go get it
Fuck is they talking 'bout gotta be kidding
I hop on the mic like its nobody's business
Flare, I'm throwing punches lil' bitch
Like roll me my monеy lil' bitch
Stop acting a dummy lil' bitch
Bitch stop acting like you got a brain
Me and lil' Reef we up in that bitch
Wе higher than motherfucking planes
Been with the same gang
It's too hard to maintain for ya'

[Verse 3: Reef]
I took off the top okay
I'm working [?] for ya'
Don't stay on topic for shit
I'm really putting in pain for ya'
Me and lil' Keet hit up Saks Fifth
Tryna leave a stain on the bank account
Fighting them demons
Got his own brother killed, won't take account
Like why is you hidin'?
Come outside
I'm safe, I'm alright
Made that mistake once or twice
Hm, put your hands down
I don't wanna fight

[Verse 4: Keeta]
Gotta let me know
How this going for you baby
Dont just leave me 'lone
I been feeling cold
What you doing with yourself acting like I'm a joke
Watch it unfold
Man the story's old

[Verse 5: Reef]
I don't sip drink 'round fiends
I don't sip drink 'round crackheads
I might fuck a crackhead off a crack [?]
We putting doja in molly, serving I don't do crack baby
You see me in Dolce & Gabbana, this came straight off the rack baby
Yeah, and I get it off the muscle
Bitch put your gun up
We can't touch 'em
Ay, them bullets come precise
Straight off the huddle
Lil' bro hit so much
He drop a tape up on the huddle
We could fuck, that's for sure don't cuddle

[Verse 6: Keeta]
Stupid lil' boy need to love yourself
Boy if I could I would fuck myself
'Cause I know nobody got these racks
I know nobody got that bag like I got that bag, boy I pop that tag
Dumb lil' bitch must want me mad
Call me daddy, not her dad
If it's beef with me and Reef
Know we pop out like eight-deep
With lockhart gang cause that's the fleet
When we pop out at that function shit look like a meet-and-greet
Shoutout gang we all gon' eat
Know them gang and we don't leave