[Intro]
Squad
I ain't with all that sneak dissin' shit, man (At all)
My n***as in these streets for real (Woo)
Tookaville (Jojo)
Let's get it
BDK

[Chorus]
They claimin' we the competition (BDK)
But I'm screamin' "Fuck the opposition" (Squad)
I ain't really got no competition
I'm in these streets, I send shots at the opposition

[Verse]
Tookaville I rep this, sneak dissin', meet the exodus
Say "Fuck Tooka", you meet the clip
Yo mans die and you still ain't on shit
Respect, yeah, I earned this shit, disease gon' leave you burnin' quick
Burn n***as like I burn blank disc
King Lil Jay for president
N***as dissin' on me that's death row
But you know I keep the strap Velcro
No Taco Bell, but I feed you shells though
J Money got caught on Death Rhodes
You a singer or a rapper?
I'm a real n***a, I'll clap you
Catch Lil Durk, put him in the dirt, feed the boy a clip 'cause I know he an actor
And, yeah, I got shot, but you know that ain't stop
Me from gettin' this guap
STL, EBT, yeah, we sendin' shots
Do a hit on 064, now the block hot
Free WeeWee, C-Ball, and 50 Shots
.223, it at make a n***a Diddy bop
Team No Lackin, so you know I gotta keep a chop
Do a hit and it's drastic, stretch a n***a out like elastic
Hit the guys, disappear like magic
Gettin' money, kill a opp with some passion
You a lame n***a, you ain't wit' it
You paranoid, just admit it
Rest in peace to my competition
I'm takin' over my city
N***as mad 'cause they know it's my time
Black malice, so I can't get signed
Put money on my head, they tryin'
So hard, but I'm still on my grind
N***as said my name for no reason
My flow hard like cement
It's a cold world, n***a, you anaemic
You GDK, but your daddy was a region
These for the n***as that don't know
I be throwin' bullets, Tony Romo
Pull up in a 4 dour with a 4-0
Make your body go up and down like a yoyo
Stevie Wonder to the game, I don't see
Any n***a in the streets that's hot as me
Got a view now, so you gettin' money
I remember them days when you was bummy
Dirty n***a, skinny pants, and a mowhawk
Semi-auto with a scope take your nose off
Sippin' Act' 'til a young n***a dose off
All you n***as catchin' bullets like Randy Moss
Got my chopper in the car like Rick Ross
I'll crucify a n***a, nail 'em to the cross
Don't see the competition, that's on the boss
Hollow tips make you jump like Kris Kross
These n***as got me fucked up, why they wastin' my time?
Say they gon' kill me, they ain't in the streets
I swear to God, they lyin'
When I see you, you n***as dyin'
It's get rich or die tryin'
.30 shots all in my .9, shoot NumbaNine 'bout 9 times
[Chorus]
They claimin' we the competition (BDK)
But I'm screamin' "Fuck the opposition" (Squad)
I ain't really got no competition
I'm in these streets, I send shots at the opposition