Zaytoven
Pressure
[Intro: Young Scooter]
(Zaytoven)
Yeah, haha
Yeah, street shit
Yeah, no party music, n***a
Yeah, we don't do that

[Chorus: Young Scooter]
Real talk, what you gon' do when the pressure on?
All snitch n***as get blown down like saxophones
Two-thousand-twenty, I ain't talkin' on no cellphone (No cap)
You know them feds listenin', it's tapped, you dead wrong (Yeah)
Phone conversations get you thirty years (Thirty years)
I ain't talkin' on the phone for a whole year (Yeah)
You know where the spot at, you can meet me there (Jugghouse)
And you can't trust half these n***as, they wear wires, yeah

[Verse 1: Young Scooter]
He got a wire on, I don't trust shawty
I'm 'bout to trick him to the spot, let Steezy bust shawty
I got a plug in the Bay, I call him E-40
Hit a n***a long range with the Glock 40
Snitchin' at an all-time high now
N***as tellin' everything to cut they time down
Salute my right-hand partner Pep and son, they stayed down
And if I ever go broke again, lay it down
Every time a n***a snitch, we call him Tekashi
You can't trust these dirty feds, I know they watchin'
Put pressure on these n***as when them bodies droppin'
How he tell on you? I thought that was your partner, Street
[Chorus: Young Scooter & Young Dolph]
Real talk, what you gon' do when the pressure on?
All snitch n***as get blown down like saxophones
Two-thousand-twenty, I ain't talkin' on no cellphone (No cap)
You know them feds listenin', it's tapped, you dead wrong (Yeah)
Phone conversations get you thirty years (Thirty years)
I ain't talkin' on the phone for a whole year (Yeah)
You know where the spot at, you can meet me there
And you can't trust half these n***as, they wear wires, yeah (Yeah, yeah)

[Verse 2: Young Dolph]
N***as sing like Bryson Tiller when that pressure on (Pussy)
Yellow Lamborghini with a bad yellowbone (Bad)
Swear to God I had a shoebox with twenty prepaid phones (Throwaway)
Swear to God, he owed me money, we showed up at his home (Let me get that)
That n***a went to jail and he didn't make bail (Damn)
And he swear he didn't tell, but I can't tell (Damn)
Bags of pressure, residue under my fingernails (Woo)
Two Cali bitches sittin' in the back, call them my City Girls (Uh)
OG plug in the hood, but he turned to a rat (Hah)
Lost all his respect in the hood and he can't get it back (Fuck him)
Did a drive-by in a gray Acura, next day, paint it black (Woo)
Cutthroat n***a, I don't know how to stab in the back (Yeah, yeah)

[Chorus: Young Scooter]
Real talk, what you gon' do when the pressure on?
All snitch n***as get blown down like saxophones
Two-thousand-twenty, I ain't talkin' on no cellphone (No cap)
You know them feds listenin', it's tapped, you dead wrong (Yeah)
Phone conversations get you thirty years (Thirty years)
I ain't talkin' on the phone for a whole year (Yeah)
You know where the spot at, you can meet me there
And you can't trust half these n***as, they wear wires, yeah