[Intro]
\nHol’ on
\nWhat?
\nDamn, grrt
\nHa
\n
\n[Verse 1: CR77]
\nYesterday, a nigga fucked up my brother
\nI swear to god, we don’t even like each other
\nI swear to god, I barley even know him
\nI swear to god, he ain’t even see me yet
\nLike, word to bro, I’m ‘boutta spin through the block
\nHe cannot run through unless I got the Glock
\nEverything dead till I fuckin’ die
\nEverything dead till I fuckin’ fly
\nAnd, I know that will never happen, that’s a metaphor
\nI swear to god that all y’all niggas gonna see the floor
\nI swear to god, whoever touched my brother finna gеt hit
\nI swear to god, my brothers always need protection
\n
\n[Chorus: CR77]
\nYеah, nigga, where the freak you go?
\nI swear to god, I’m finna shoot you in your throat
\nYeah, nigga, better not run when I’m here
\nBetter not stay in fear
\nYeah, nigga, shit gon’ be over when I light you
\nShit gon’ be over when I fuckin’ fight you
\nYeah, nigga, I’ma Mike Tyson your ear, like he did that one nigga
\nI forgot his name, but
\n
\n[Post-Chorus]
\nLook, I’m finna spin through the block, they cannot do nothin’
\nI got me the G-Lock
\nThey understand what I do for the streets now
\nAnd now, I’m goin’ up, you cannot-, wait
\n
\n[Verse 2: CR77]
\nI said, I’m spinnin’ through the block, but they can’t do nothin’
\nI swear to god, I got me a fuckin’ muffin
\nI swear to god, I’m ‘boutta shoot you in your fuckin’ muffin wit’ the muffin I got
\nIt’s brand new, too
\nI swear to god I got the microphone in the Stu’
\nI swear to god, I might just start Shootin’ music videos
\nYou don’t shoot No videos cause you ain’t outside, you always in your house, sittin’, relaxin’
\nI swear to god, the only time you got out your house was to fight my brother
\nYou always beat my brother up, but now I’m gonna cover
\nI swear to god, I’m undercover like a fuckin’ police officer outside
\nI swear to god, I’m always out here in these streets
\nI spin your block, you ain’t nowhere to be seen
\nI swear to god, I’m ‘boutta fuckin’ protect my bro
\nI swear to god, everything dead, what the freak you be doin’?
\n
\n[Bridge: CR77]
\nLike, if you don’t see what I do, then you really don’t have no clue
\nThey really understand what I do, but they don’t really do shit, unless I got the G
\n
\n[Verse 3: CR77]
\nHuh, they don’t really have a clue once I step in the booth
\nThey don’t really have a clue, unless I step in the booth wit’ maximum force in my fuckin’ voice
\nThey don’t really understand it
\nThey really got the damage to they fuckin’ brain, bitch
\nI got the G-Lock, everything dead, don’t try to fuckin’ run, bitch
\nYeah, nigga, where the fuck you go?
\nI swear to god, you is not no goat
\nYeah, nigga, where the freak you go?
\nLike, stupid nigga, where the freak is your pole?
\nYeah, nigga, why you fight my brother? Come and fight me
\nI swear to god, I’m more protective than my brother is
\nYeah, nigga, where the freak you go?
\nAnd I swear to god, I’m ‘boutta up and click it, yeah
\n
\n[Chorus: CR77]
\nYeah, nigga, where the freak you go?
\nI swear to god, I’m finna shoot you in your throat
\nYeah, nigga, better not run when I’m here
\nBetter not stay in fear
\nYeah, nigga, shit gon’ be over when I light you (Huh?)
\nShit gon’ be over when I fuckin’ fight you (Wait)
\nYeah, nigga, I’ma Mike Tyson your ear, like he did that one nigga (Cook)
\nI forgot his name, but
\n
\n[Verse 4: CR77]
\nI’m about to cook this nigga in a second
\nFightin’ niggas brothers is the last thing you should be doin’
\nWhat about your fuckin’ wife? You got a wife and kids
\nYou is thirty-five years old, I know you feelin’ bad
\nAye, bro, stop talkin’, I know you really do shit
\nBut you don’t really do shit, not as long as I’m outside
\nI swear to god, I’m always outside with the knocka’
\nI swear to god, I’m always outside catchin’ Flockas
\nYou don’t understand what I do here, you don’t understand what me and my family go through
\nWhen we was in poverty, we always do this shit
\nWe always make it out, and now I’m finna make it for ‘em
\nI’m finna make some money in the fuckin’ studio
\nRappin’ on these beats, you can’t understand me, bro
\nRappin’ on these beats, you can’t understand me, hoe
\nYou understand all the fuckin’ other hoes
\nBut, you don’t understand what I’m saying on the lyrics
\nYou don’t understand lyricism at its finest
\nYuh, you don’t understand lyricism, you really don’t understand it
\nI’m gonna do an exorcism on your body, when you fucking Dialotti
\nI’m ‘boutta spin the block, you cannot be Biasotti
\nI swear to everything that I’m finna Diasotti your fuckin’ brain outta your fuckin’ skull, bitch
\n
\n[Outro]
\nYesterday, somebody fucked up my brother
\nAye, grrt
\nBaow
\nYuh!\n\n
