[Intro: Einár, Dree Low & Thrife]
What's up?
Ey, Yei Gon-fucking-zales, man, ey
Gang, gang, gang, Yeah, yeah, yeah
Southside, Westside, it goes fast, ey
Whoot, whoot, whoot
What's up boys, man, ey, ey, ey, ey
Becho Begre
Yei Gonzalez

[Verse 1: Dree Low, Einár & Thrife]
G17 bro, I turn you into a salad
Four-stroke and Kalashnikov, you get smoked
From the Gilera it sounds ra-ta-ta-ta-ta
Poor your ass, brother, poor for your mother
Have it in my jeans, fuck holster
I pull up with the Gilera and make holes in your chest
I came from the right, bro, and Thrife came from the left
We kidnap thе beat, sorry, bro, we're gangstеrs (Ey, ey, ey)
Whip, whip, whip, cooking coke in my kitchen
Boy, go, go, go, you get smoked, you get toasted, ey
Ey, yo, sniper, sniper, but my bro, he's thug
And she, lick, lick, lick and she sucked, she's nice, ey
Ey, Dree we are gangsters like in the past
Have a Glock with laser and thirty in it
Bro, it's speedy on the left file
If police want to stop me then I'm gone
Ey, I save my money, put in away in a box
Police is fools so I hide my cash
Ey, everyone wants drugs so we all sell coke
But no one wants to lose, fuck the nights in Solna, ey
[Chorus: Thrife, Dree Low & Einár]
Man, gun in my jeans, say what, what
They shot and ran away in a car, say what, what
You don't dare coming here, we see red, red
Too many brothers rest in peace, they are dead, dead
Ey, you think I'm joking, we show up with guns
You will fall, boy tun, man, hurry
You aim at the legs but rap about fucking skulls
Ey, everyone here has a gun in their fucking pants, pow-pow-pow-pow

[Verse 2: Thrife, Dree Low & Einár]
If you fucking test you end up in the hospital
Do my own things but the coke is from the phone
If police wants to ask, then we all shut up
Because snitches here lose, they get turned into soup
Everyone here smokes, bro, but we aren't mechanics
Faces covered because police is searching for us, my friend
Bro, we are real, we have clothes from Italy
If someone plays big, then we send him to the funeral
I swear, I'm Beethoven, but not pianist
I live in a hospital, no one here is healthy
Ey, bro, we have drugs, we sit on bricks
And she goes down, she wants to suck dick, pow-pow-pow

[Chorus: Thrife, Dree Low & Einár]
Man, gun in my jeans, say what, what
They shot and ran away in a car, say what, what
You don't dare coming here, we see red, red
Too many brothers rest in peace, they are dead, dead
Ey, you think I'm joking, we show up with guns
You will fall, boy tun, man, hurry
You aim at the legs but rap about fucking skulls
Ey, everyone here has a gun in their fucking pants, pow-pow-pow-pow
[Outro: Einár, Dree Low ​& Thrife]
Haha, shit, man, boys, yeah
What's happening, bro? Thrife, say to them, brother
Bro, they take nothing, these
Nada, Prada brother
Number one, number one, ey
We sip lean, here
Becho begre, man
Come on, come on, come on, come on
Yei Gonzales
Husby, Dalen, Husby, Dalen, e