Y’all Don’t Really Hear Me

Ion fuck with no bitch niggas
No snitch niggas, no brick niggas
No Limit Gang get rich nigga
That temple mac gon' flip niggas
Got real rugers got real shooters
Them hollow tips dont miss nigga
If you outside when them bullets flyin
Then you gon' get hit nigga
You know I demand bucks
Stick up, hands up
Rounds clap from the hot shit
When the Glock spit pick ya mans up
Got bail money, no handcuffs
Mossberg leave his mans slumped
Let the shottie bust til his body bust
Then beat his body up with the cans up
Like when lil bruce hit Rotti up
Free lil hitta tear Audi up
87th wanna rock with us
83rd wanna copy us
But everybody ain't real niggas
So 83rd, they the sloppy us
But anyways this shit real
It a brick kill when you see steel
Free G Gill and we WILL
My dope rolled like 3 pills
3 shots fired and that's 3 kills
Show no mercy when you see field
That's real rap, on 79th them real traps
In the dip with them real gats
I ain't talkin bout no lil gats
That ning ding like Lil Shaq
Like old bitches, we will clap
Run up on him with the steel mac
These niggas caps get peeled back
Murder one on my 5th track
Ima boss, I ripped that
Caucasian I whip that
Thats why my wrist flex
White remy, I sip that
9 got me mix matched
My lift weights got kickback
Bitch niggas dont get that
Chit chat get a bitch wacked
Get low after that click clack
Got clips filled with them tic tacs
And .44's with them 6 packs
Listen, yeah im riding round with that 50
High points in that semi
Let off 4 bricks from the four fifth
Leave a ho stiff like dickies
Yeah its black mob, get benchpressed
Like "hey man, see the light man?"
Roll up on him in a white van
Blowin shells out like sprite cans
And it's Ls over them fuck niggas
The sweet route, I can't go
Every cent in my payroll I made that for Fazo!
And they must know
Cash coming it must go
That money come by the bus flow
And I ain't got no trust fund, I trust none
Its a cold war and my luck done
When it's war time I trust guns
I ain't gotta lie
No fear in me cuz i gotta die
And im good ma, you ain't gotta cry
Cuz im posted up with them thugs niggas
Talkin like a drug dealer
It ain't how you raised me
That street shit just changed me
Had to grow up and be a real nigga
16 tryna kill niggas
Got problems gon' deal with em
Drop whoever step to me
Making niggas leave they hood
Call they ass some refugees
EBK right next to me
Essex on the left of me
And I know that talk is cheap, so money got the best of me
And i'll never back down, so courage got the rest of me
Hustle till the death of me
Money on mind, Lil herbie on that grind
So im posted on the 8 with a 30 in my 9
Put a nigga on his ass if he come across the line
Let his mans meet the nickle if he tryna drop a dime
Make a nigga freeze up like my hamma stoppin time
Really though
Run up on his block with the mask, Rey Mysterio
Mac shots rip a nigga up now he cheerio
Back to the block banging harder than a stereo
I told them I was gettin on, but I dont think they hear me though