Walking Dead

[Verse 1: TRL Dub]
Alright bet, 20 hoes in this bitch you know I'm stepping with my scale
What you need, come and grab us, you know they coming through the mail
Any nigga play with Dub, know they getting pressed for real
I don't play no kid games, bitch I'm really in the field
Gang laying on the beef, he waiting on his first kill
When he call, suitin' up, bitch I'm ready for the drill
I got this drop from his hoe, yea I know where niggas live
I'ma pull up on 'em, give 'em 100 shots like I'm [?]
Drop a four in my pop, I do that shit just for my health
Nigga bragging on some bodies, ain't got nothing under his belt
Lil ham ass niggas, [?] and put you on the shelf
If a nigga mention my name, I'm responding with a shell

[Verse 2: TRL DRich]
And free my niggas doing fеd time, bro off the meds look likе one of them walking dead guys
Hop in that fast thing, Trackhawk or Redeye
With my new bitches, ain't the same one from last time
We'll pop up and blow, like a land mine
Oh you don't know? You better ask the last guy
We beef first quarter, you don't see half time
I was chilling for too long, now it's [?] time
Ain't no brakes, hit the gas, time to ride, get a [?]
You tried to [?], cut your hand, at sunrise, I pick up bands
I'm the plug, no middleman, this bitch tugging on my pants
See me bust another band, she wanna fuck me with her friend

[Verse 3: TRL Mar]
Aaaahhh, niggas wake up in the morning and just lie to people
Bitch I'm really walking dead, cause I got zombie in me
When I get on that [?], don't stop a nigga
Who is you, [?] son, nigga's father figure
I get slimy, don't let me around no niggas
I ain't high, so my voice start sounding different
Leave the talk for the birds, just flock on niggas
I ain't feeling too well, I need a doctor visit
She was looking for an answer, I ain't got a sentence
Bitch think cause she bad, she can take my chicken
If he try to take something, then take one with him
I got money on my mind, so my hands start itching

[Verse 4: TRL Ace]
It be hate what they saying so i never listen
Broke boy ain't got no pape, he be penny pinching
The room small but its filled with all pretty bitches
I ain't want the whole house so i bought the kitchen
We putting za in the air this not a smoke shop
All eyes on me, I feel like Pac
Caught my attention throwing ass, and she won't stop
She want ace to blow a bag, then she better not
Put an extension on my gun, make it stand out
How many hoes in this room, lets do a headcount
Just for playing with my name, you get chalked out
I'm getting money and you somewhere with your hand out

[Verse 5: TRL JT]
JT whipping bands out
Police tried to flip me, I hopped out this bitch and ran out
Who the fuck is yall, stop asking questions, you too fanned out
She gon’ pull her pants down, last nigga reach for JT piece he Caught a headshot
We gon’ bring them switches out, I’m gon put them killers on you
In the hood chillin, [?] I got ‘bout 50 on me
He can’t come here, he ain’t with us, Campboy niggas only
Muddy ass cup, already zooted, I can’t even pour it (Nigga)