[Intro]
(Heavy Artillery Music Group)
Yeah, let's go

[Verse]
I be hoping my dog be holding his head, I know how he feel to be fighting these charges
We together like twins, so whether he wrong or he right, n***a, I'ma be with him regardless
I'm with killers and robbers
I see a bitch I'ma put her in Prada
You see me liking her pic better guard it
She see the money, she all 'bout a dollar
I'm in Amiri, I'm making her hotter
She know the rules, she fucking with that's it's gon' be a fee if she gеt in that bag
Made it my business to get mе some money and never let up with my feet on the gas
She got a n***a that's tucking her pillow but he better stop 'fore I get on his ass
I'm talking lay on the spot with a switch on the Glock, I'ma trail him and hit out the glass
What you know 'bout sitting in bushes, camping out and laying in grass?
You can do shit how you want, just take your time and don't be fast
He gon' swing that stick, he ain't doing no playing
Hit a close face shot, this a cool hundred bands
Out the way when they hid, I was laying on the sand
N***a, all these drums, we a goddamn band
He ain't know I'm the man, I'm the Rob Van Dam
We'll hop out that van to the machine gun clan
How the eyes get big? Should've seen that man
Get to hitting that switch, I'm the clean-up man
Fuck, you ain't seen shit, n***a I'll [?]
Big dog in this shit, n***a, check my stamp
I done got my way, n***a, check my camp
New opp get killed then the block get amp
In New York with a Glock, I ain't going to Rikers
I'ma just hit once, I ain't doing no wife
Shit on the top so I'm not gon' write it
I was the same when I got indicted
She see me glowing, this bitch getting excited
Brodie in trial, you know he a fighter
Stuck in the cell, somebody might write him
He got a name, the folks don't like him
He got the check, better hop out the striker
I pull a gun out and pop out and strike 'em
I take the boot up, do two, overnight it
I'm fucking two bitches, don't even like 'em
I stick the tip in and dig in and pipe her
Hype up the Glock, call me Wopo Almighty
Turn up the men, n***a, we all icey
Missing the men, after this I'ma write 'em
[Outro]
(For real)
(I'ma hit the men as soon as I leave out this bitch)
(All the in New York)
(Hey Mook, what time is it?)
(It's like, 10:31)
(Turn me up)