[Intro: FBG Cash]
Huh, huh
Huh, huh, huh
Nigga, you your daddy son
Nigga, you your daddy son
Nigga, you your daddy son
[Chorus: FBG Cash]
Nigga, you your daddy son, everybody know that you a ho
Takin' pictures with them pistols that we know you'll never blow
You not really 'bout that life, you that type to fight a ho
But won't turn up with these niggas that's gon' put you in the floor
In the dirt, I'm that type to wear my victim on a shirt
I'm that type that never talk, I'd rather hit ya where it hurt
I'm that type to tote a pipe, you that type that go to church
You that type that run his mouth, I'm tryna get a nigga murked
[Verse 1: FBG Cash]
The news say they found another nigga in a dumpster
Say, "He was a dope boy," he probably was a buster
12 came and snatched us, now they askin' questions
I don't know what happеned, we don't remеmber nothin'
Scouts on me now, but I been ballin' since a freshman
When I was a sophomore, I was breakin' records
Dropped out of school, I didn't make it to a junior
I was sellin' dope to all the motherfuckin' students
Everything I know, I had to get it out the street, yeah
You was doin' math and I was breakin' down a P, yeah
Trap doin' numbers, I could never go to sleep, yeah
Started with a half, now I want the whole thing, yeah
[Chorus: FBG Cash & Wooski]
Nigga, you your daddy son, everybody know that you a ho
Takin' pictures with them pistols that we know you'll never blow
You not really 'bout that life, you that type to fight a ho
But won't turn up with these niggas that's gon' put you in the floor
In the dirt, I'm that type to wear my victim on a shirt
I'm that type that never talk, I'd rather hit ya where it hurt (Wop)
I'm that type to tote a pipe, you that type that go to church
You that type that run his mouth, I'm tryna get a nigga murked (Wop, wop, wop, wop)
[Verse 2: Wooski, FBG Dutchie & FBG Cash]
Police askin' questions 'bout bodies and niggas confessin' (Gang)
I beat them two cases, now it's back to jug and finessin' (Wop, wop-wop-wop)
All out late night with this pipe, no, I'm not with the restin' (Nah, ah, huh)
He got hit with the nick' and the nigga still ain't learn his lesson (Gang)
Me and my shooters'll pull up on your ass with that Smith & Wesson (On cheedoe)
Every time we pop up, we just blowin', ain't askin' no question (Wop)
Shout out Duck, he gon' slide with some shit they not even expectin' (Gang, gang-gang, gang-gang)
And the opps out here workin' with cops 'cause their ass need protection (Huh, huh, on foe 'nem grave, what?)
Bitch, I'm Woo Wop (Woo Woo, Woo Woo, Woo Woo)
New car, new bitch, and a new watch
If you lackin' with a opp, then two drop (Baow)
Steady blowin' at the opps got my tool hot (Grrt)
On the block, thug life, bitch, 2Pac (Gang)
Yeah, we really with the shits, nigga, you not (Gang)
I ain't got a drizzy on me, twenty-two shots (Glah)
I ain't got the drizzy on me, twenty-two shots (Bah-bah, bah-bah)
[Chorus: FBG Cash]
Nigga, you your daddy son, everybody know that you a ho
Takin' pictures with them pistols that we know you'll never blow
You not really 'bout that life, you that type to fight a ho
But won't turn up with these niggas that's gon' put you in the floor
In the dirt, I'm that type to wear my victim on a shirt
I'm that type that never talk, I'd rather hit ya where it hurt
I'm that type to tote a pipe, you that type that go to church
You that type that run his mouth, I'm tryna get a nigga murked
[Outro: FBG Dutchie]
Huh
Huh, huh, huh
On foe 'nem grave, uh, huh
Huh, huh, huh
Ayy, why you do that?
