Tap that Button

[Intro: Screwly G]
Don’t make me tap that-
Don’t make me tap that button
Don’t make me tap that-
Don’t make me tap that-
Don’t make me tap that-
(That nigga Nate crazy, okay, bet)

[Verse 1: Screwly G]
I’m STK, fuck KTS, spin out west and score me a bucket
Caught on the 5 and his dumb ass died, APs and switches, tap that button
Niggas still ain’t get back for that one old pack, lil' dude had died for nothing
Hit in his head, knocked off his dreads, don’t get caught, we still opp hunting
That’s blood on his food, not barbecue sauce
Got shot in his shit, spilled blood on his nuggets
Opps on live right now, tell ’em "Stay right there, I’m on my way, I’m rushin'"
Opps don’t send they drop, made ’em switch they block every time they out, I’m coming
I gotta lay off the drugs, ’cause I got tired and stopped, lil' folks kept running
Nigga tried to spin my block and his car got stopped, four nick’ had his dumb ass ducking
Niggas be dissing Lil' Boog in songs, nigga fuck JV, headtapped his muffin
I heard a nigga say he smoking on Tink, okay, that’s cool, finna flame Fee Money
Twan hit a lick in the M and almost died in an alley, tell ’em stop that fronting
Niggas got lucky when they killed Mane, lil' buz had Drac and went out dumping
I had a ski on my face when I went outside, OG knew I was on something
I know an opp got hit in his head but he ain’t dead, shit look like a pumpkin
These niggas mad that I got a deal and they can’t rap, and I got more money
Slide through the 'Ville tryna kill, 33 in my Glock but I don’t see nothing
We caught some opps on a Deuce, I ain’t calling no truce, they ran when they heard that button (Rrah-rrah)
Niggas don’t post on the 3 no more since shh got shot, I was one of the gunmen (Grrr-grrr)
We caught Jack on the 5 and he almost died, I missed his ass, got lucky
Spin my roll and aim for his fro, shoot his ass in the head like they did his cousin
These niggas know Lil' Screwly a shooter, I don’t care where he at, I’ll shoot it in public
I got a million dollar deal but still in the field drilling, I ain’t worried ’bout nothing
Auntie, I’m sorry, I’m killing my bitch ass cousin if he come to the family function (Fuck that nigga)
I know an opp that we ain’t kill but he still died, backdoored by his buddy
I know an opp got put in a chair, can’t use his legs, lil foenem done it
Bob got shot and dropped his fire - Wanna know how I know? I was doing the gunnin'
The smoke got real, it’s kill or be killed, opps ain’t outside, they tails, they tucking
Fuck VM, claim that and meet death
You bitch ass niggas better watch what you rep
You better not slip, better watch your step
Killed in front of his house, he died on the steps
Keep shooting his ass, he gasping for air
Four shooters, one nigga, that shit wasn’t fair
Two chops, two Glocks, end a nigga career
Go to war with the world, niggas know I don’t care
All my opps gon’ D.I.E., we made packs, it’s more than three
Can’t count on hands, gotta use my feet
I know a nigga was six foot four, but the 7.62 put him six feet deep
Ran in his house, left his ass on the couch, he was dead for hours, they thought he was sleep

[Verse 2: TiyGangAce]
They thought he was sleep, they thought he was dozing
Caught outside, fah-fah, he was chosen
Left on the ground doing shit like Mosey, creep through cuts where them fuck niggas posted
I want some head from an opp bitch, can’t send the lo’, hell nah, she might get ghosted
A nigga got hit with a chopstick, .308 hit hard, this bitch ferocious
I don’t diss if they ain’t noticed, won’t ever ever say who I’m smokin'
I’d rather jump in the car and go search for a soul, catch a kill for all that jokin'
Come through blowing at the opps, thinking one might check, them niggas ain’t doing no postin'
I smelt the burns from the flesh, this 5.56 left his dumb ass sittin' there roastin'
Where I'm at, I'm sitting at the crib, laid back at the spot where I’m sitting cozy
Putting in my work came from a diss, ’cause it’s word round town he get up closer
I gotta stay with a mask when I’m outside, the neighbors might be too nosy
We left his ass in the past, we don’t smoke on him, that nigga hit like some OG
Bro want the kit, then he snatching your Rollie, picked up the hoe in a strike, this a stolie
B’s on the switch, this bitch a trophy, blew they ass down like Craig and Smokey
Get in that jam and he squeal like Joey, hit in his face, make sure he die slowly
Chop make him spin ring around the rosie, caught his ass at church, seen the ghost, left him holy
Shots from the chop, they fucked him over, ain’t tryna slide, they just lookin' for closure
We the ones killing the threats, I ain’t dropping no checks, we gon’ smoke the ones feeding the soldiers
Thought he was hit in the neck when I let off the nick', but the nigga got hit in the shoulder
They tried to shoot out the car, shot the wheels off the bitch, only thing that you seen was the rotors
Jack trying to get something to eat, nigga wasn’t on point, smoke his ass in the line at Culver’s
Score me a kill without drugs, only thing I see blood, get up close and do this shit sober
Heard he got hit at the club, he was doing that loafin’, and died with his gun in his holster
I’m in a speed with 12, I ain’t going to jail, ’cause I keep my composure