[Intro: Bizzy Banks]
Grrah
(Oi Bullo)
You know I'm on a whole lotta gang shit
Rrah, Bizzy
(Aye, Nxrre)
Uh
[Verse 1: Bizzy Banks]
Niggas movin' hot (Hot, what?)
Get out the stu' and go and bend a block (Rrah)
They know my body, heavy on the Wok, huh
Ha, (Get Money, bitch), huh
Niggas talkin' hot
Get out the stu' and go and bend a block
They know my body, heavy on the Wok
Walk in the spot like, "Every opp shot"
Half of these rappers never sent a shot (At all)
Half of these rappers gotta give me props
They think we cool 'cause I fuck with some Jets
Make Kay Hound 48 him to his death
Bitch, I'ma click until it's nothin' left
Like a orphan, I leave a baby on a step
He think he a shooter, put him to the test
Everywhere that I go, I keep one in the head
They told me, "Get back on that old shit"
Got a beam on the Glock, I know I won't miss
They be spinnin' no posted, that don't make sense
I nut in her mouth, she say she taste Tris
Bitch, I been drillin' way before this shit
If it's up, then it's stuck just like a ornament
Slide through his block and make a tournament
Got one more line, I need some more of it
If it ain't Tris or Wock', then I ain't pourin' it
She keep callin' my phone and I'm ignorin' it
The opps keep on dissin', I'm ignorin' 'em
If it's beef, I ain't post it, I ain't one of them
You wanna be the first to do somethin'? (Somethin')
Be the first one to get off my dick
That nigga runnin', prayin' that he trip
Bro died in a crash, now they tryna diss (What?)
Bitch, I'm the reason all ya' niggas lit (Uh-huh, uh-huh)
If ya' moms got a car, I'm prayin' that it flip
You killed ya' own mans, ain't that some shit?
I don't smoke so I sell they homie out the zip
Yeah, that's that Bizzy they all wanna hear
He tryna diss to save his rap career
When I got to his block it's never no one there
Haha, look
[Chorus: Bizzy Banks]
Fuck it, fuck it, he tryna diss till I pull up and up it (Grrah)
Fuck it, fuck it, if they throw a party, we endin' they function
Fuck it, fuck it, he chill wit' the opps, so that feature I'm dubbin' (Look)
(Fuck it, fuck it, if it's beef, why the fuck is you stuntin', uh?)
[Verse 2: Jenn Carter]
Niggas be broke, but I cannot relate
.40 gon' clap him like it's Patty Cake
Medic gon' save him but it's prolly late
I already done clicked until his body shake
He on the 'net, I cannot tolerate
And when I'm off the Wock' I cannot operate
Bullets gon' hit him, make him Harlem Shake
Too tact', two phones just like I'm Kevin Gates
We-We don't see eye-to-eye, bullets makin' him hot, like
He lay flat like a pancake (Damn)
Know I'm scarred, so the knock on my Band-Aid, what?
And these niggas keep dissin', they been had the drop
Like Lil Uzi I been on a rampage
And these opps probably runnin' my fan page
They on my dick and I don't understand it
Grrah, when you run into me
Better look back, there's a beam on your feet
When I tote on my gun you can tell I'm elite, like
I be scorin' like I'm in the league
If he raisin' the pressure, I'm makin' him bleed, like
Niggas be kids, I can't beef with no infant
I can't speak on the shit I committed
[Chorus: Bizzy Banks]
Fuck it, fuck it, he tryna diss till I pull up and up it
Fuck it, fuck it, if they throw a party, we endin' they function
Fuck it, fuck it, he chill wit' the opps, so that feature I'm dubbin' (Look)
(Fuck it, fuck it, if it's beef, why the fuck is you stuntin'? Look)
Fuck it, he tryna diss till I pull up and up it
Fuck it, fuck it, if they throw a party, we endin' they function
Fuck it, fuck it, he chill wit' the opps, so that feature I'm dubbin' (Look)
(Fuck it, fuck it, if it's beef, why the fuck is you stuntin'? Look)
