[Intro: StanWill]
(Ooh, it's BlueStrip, baby)
Look like I ain't got no—, yeah

[Verse 1: StanWill]
Look like I ain't got no crib in this Rick hoodie
Flick the switchie on that bitch, turn the blick fully
Drunk as hell, had the valet bring the whip to me
You don't see me in the booth, I'm probably in your bitch pussy

[Verse 2: Kasher Quon]
Backpack Boyz in my 'Wood, this ain't [?]
I've been scammin' nine years straight, you still a rookie
You was a bitch five years ago, you still a [?]
This Hellcat a striker, my young dog, he stole it for me

[Verse 3: StanWill]
Have my n***a Beam post up like he Kobe somethin'
Love me in my city, n***as treat me like I'm [?]
Green beam on every blick, they think I'm Obi-Wan
Took your salary to Somerset, I might just blow a hun'

[Verse 4: Kasher Quon]
I took fifty to the—
I took fifty to the airport, I'm goin' out of town
N***as still tryna sell one, I just smoked a pound
Ran into my opp at the mall, I should've smoked him now
[Verse 5: StanWill]
What I'm playin' daily, you could only play for prom for real
All this Christian Dior, you would think I pray to God for real
Life a gamble, I'm just tryna play the odds for real
Rollin' with militia, boy, if I don't think I spray the God [?]

[Verse 6: Kasher Quon & StanWill]
Rolled a point two in your 'Wood, you ain't high for real
Pop him while he down, makin' sure he die for real
My bitch sick of me, she said, "It's the lies you tell"
Shit, my bitch sick of me, so I bought her YSL
Told her hurry up, I got a first class flight at 12
Went and bust the Rollie, they keep sayin' time'll tell
I went and bust my chain, they thought I was broke as hell
Bitch think I'm Apollo off the Creed, she know the spell
That fake-ass Jesus piece, you goin' straight to Hell
Let 'em flick the lights on us, you know we racin' 12
I'm smokin' out the 'bow, your dirty ass smokin' tails
Catch me uppin' rackies on the bitches, playin' show and tell

[Verse 7: Kasher Quon]
Thirty-five for my piece, another thousand for the bale
You only buyin' a three-five, why the fuck I need a scale?
What the fuck I need a scale for?
Ain't fine with the 'bows, that's what we got the mail for
[Verse 8: StanWill]
Actin' like he tough, we know he soft as Elmo
Who the fuck is [?], him is what I tell hoes
Say she wanna fuck, but I can tell, though
He don't do prosthetics 'round this bitch but unky sell 'bows

[Outro: StanWill]
Huh, bitch, Dog Shit Militia