Lyrics
(Ay, who made it?)
We grew up 'round Glizzy's, FN's, Five-sevens and Rugers (huh)
Drizzy's, blackouts, TEC's and many Uzis (huh, huh, okay, ay)
I could see everything he ate today, they left him with his stomach out (ha-ha-ha)
The only reason them other niggas ain't die, 'cause they ain't poppin' out (real pussy)
We grew up 'round Glizzy's, FN's, Five-sevens and Rugers (huh)
Drizzy's, blackouts, TEC's and many Uzis (huh, okay)
I could see everything he ate today, they left him with his stomach out (ha-ha-ha)
The only reason them other niggas ain't die, 'cause they ain't poppin' out
These niggas ain't poppin' out, now they on Instagram makin' trillers (ha-ha-ha)
Niggas ain't never sent a shot, but on Instagram, they are killer (what the fuck?)
Niggas be hidin' behind a fat bitch, they should've died when it hit her (ha-ha-ha)
Put two holes in one of you niggas, leave a nigga lookin' like scissors (bow, bow, bow)
This shit like Legos, we knock blocks off and then we skate off
Can't find 'em, fuck it, where is his grandma, gon' pop a skirt off (bow, bow)
Grew up 'round Glizzy's, not no hot dogs, they grill your top off (ha-ha-ha)
I catch a Insta' nigga in real life, I make him log off
We grew up 'round Glizzy's, FN's, Five-seven's and Rugers (huh)
Drizzy's, blackouts, TEC's and many Uzis (huh, okay)
I could see everything he ate today, they left him with his stomach out (ha-ha-ha)
The only reason them other niggas ain't die, 'cause they ain't poppin' out (yeah, yeah)
We got Draco's, we got Glizzy's with switches to give him hell (bow, bow, bow, bow)
She won't fuck you, 'cause yo' partner and partner gon' kiss and tell
This macaroni hit his noodle, know my shooter give him shells
Make a diss me in your bushes with this shit like wheezy, nigga (bitch)
Low-key, I'm big worm, 'cause I pull up 'bout a zipper two (yeah)
Bougie hoe, I bought her Christian Lou's, for her new tennis shoes (Christian Lou's)
You's a bitch for batin', bring my rod, I'm tryna fish with you (let's go fishin')
I've been set on lowes for hours, sour smell like pickle juice (yeah)
We grew up 'round Glizzy's, FN's, Five-seven's and Rugers (huh)