| Sim-Simmy |
| Niggas know I shoot like John Wicky |
| Ride with the blicky |
| When we see him, make it sticky |
| Run, Ricky |
| We the ones make 'em run, Ricky |
| Thirty shot blicky |
| We the ones giving |
| Shit busy |
| We the ones see him get busy |
| We the ones spin into it dizzy |
| Pick it 'til it’s empty |
| We the ones running through your city |
| I’m a shot nigga, come get with me |
| Know this pussy on the low |
| See me and get low |
| I just got the low |
| Now I’m 'bout to go |
| Niggas put shit on the hot |
| They see me trying to hide |
| They say they outside but they never outside |
| I’m really outside, I’m really with the gods |
| I’m really getting fried, smoking niggas that died |
| We hit him in his head, now that nigga sped |
| He lucky he ain’t dead 'cause we hit him in his hat |
| I’m really with it, eat it, eat it, eat it, uh |
| Real, real, uh |
| , she gon' eat up on my semen, uh |
| I’m really with it, eat it, eat it, eat it, uh |
| I’m really with it, eat it, eat it, eat it, uh |
| Sim-Simmy |
| Niggas know I shoot like John Wicky |
| Ride with the blicky |
| When we see him, make it sticky |
| Run, Ricky |
| We the ones make 'em run, Ricky |
| Thirty shot blicky |
| We the ones giving |
| Shit busy |
| We the ones see him get busy |
| We the ones spin into it dizzy |
| Pick it 'til it’s empty |
| We the ones running through your city |
| I’m a shot nigga, come get with me |