Текст песни
(You're making me stall for forty years)
(EMRLD)
(Ayo, Eli, what the fuck?)
Four opps got hit, in a row
Bro started throwin', they tryna get close
Bullets surround him, they turn him to mold
Hollows, they hit him, they makin' 'em fold
Tryna spin, think you low?
'Ooter gon' pop out the cut with his pole
G2C, the designer is-
Like, G2C, the designer is clothes
Gave him a choice, you could run or meet death
Beam on the gun so it's nowhere to go
Why did you think runnin' was an option?
Brodie had told me, "Don't let 'em get low"
He was typin', then he post
Then the bullet had went through his bone
Call EMS, think he need a surgeon
I do not think that he gon' make it home
I don't think that he makin' it home (fah)
Heart turned cold, so if my brother bite cheese, I'm takin' my own (grltt)
And I'm still in the hood, so if you see me on that block, don't think it's a clone (it's a clone)
We got (?) and TECS, they chrome (it's a chrome)
Ain't no leg shot, aim for his dome, we get 'em gone (fah)
Wavin' the Draco, pass the ARP (ARP)
I got Blood niggas and they houndin' (hound that shit)
But you know I'm heavy on the C (what's crackin')
And the politics, I can't allow it (fuck), go huntin', send him on a spree (grltt)
Got the drop, from a opp bitch, she put the air tag on the V
We got the lo', you lackin' for a treesh (treeshy)
Huh, no, we cannot leave a trace
I'm on parole and my brother got knocked for the pole
Know that he beatin' the case
Free smoke if you wanna get high
You know crodie got hits with the Drac'
He wanna drill for the thrill
I brought Annie, now he moonwalkin' in space
Brodie buggin', he fried
They think that he laced when they look in his eyes (grrah, grrah, boom)
I got some bullets I'm tryna provide
I send 'em out if you touch one of mine (like, gangster)
He tryna front, he on live
But I cannot risk goin' out for some views
One by one, take the piece off the pie
And boy locked up, it was all on the news (TTGz do hits)
Four opps got hit, in a row
Bro started throwin', they tryna get close (grrah, grrah, boom)
Bullets surround him, they turn him to mold
Hollows, they hit him, they makin' 'em fold (word to bro)
Tryna spin, think you low?
'Ooter gon' pop out the cut with his pole
G2C, the designer is-
Like, G2C, the designer is clothes
Gave him a choice, you could run or meet death
Beam on the gun so it's nowhere to go
Why did you think runnin' was an option?
Brodie had told me, "Don't let 'em get low"
He was typin', then he post
Then the bullet had went through his bone (grrah, grrah, boom)
Call EMS, think he need a surgeon (grrah, grrah)
I do not think that he gon' make it home (like, word to bro)