| Numba' Nine roll up, bro!
|
| Rondo yelling Six Hunnid
|
| Rip Munna, Rip L’A!
|
| FTO, man
|
| Glock Boys, you know how we rockin, man!
|
| Coolin' in O Block, smoking loud pack with Boss Top, and Cdai, 22 shots
|
| Switching lanes in a foreign car
|
| For the squad, bitch we go hard, try to try us, you ain’t gon' make it far!
|
| We gotta' lot of Glocks for the fucking war
|
| And bitch we still posted by that corner store
|
| I got this chopper wit' no kick back
|
| Ride on him then I blow his shit back
|
| These niggas woofing I ain’t with the chit chat
|
| I’m in the foreign riding round with big Macs
|
| Whatever you niggas on, I’m on that
|
| Me and Cdai coolin', smoking loud pack
|
| He got that work, run in, I need that!
|
| Swirl wrap 'em up for a kidnap
|
| These thots calling, «Why they all on me?»
|
| You talking to them, «No, you ain’t not homie!»
|
| I do my work all by my lonely
|
| And I got this fame, now they think I’m phony
|
| I run the game like my name Tony
|
| I’m shooting shit like my name Ginóbili
|
| Squad shit, bitch!
|
| And I’m Numba' Nine from the six!
|
| Coolin' in O Block, smoking loud pack with Boss Top, and Cdai, 22 shots
|
| Switching lanes in a foreign car
|
| For the squad, bitch we go hard, try to try us, you ain’t gon' make it far!
|
| We gotta' lot of Glocks for the fucking war
|
| And bitch we still posted by that corner store
|
| You got a 30, we got 50's on that!
|
| Rap dissing, you get shot just like Kodak
|
| Say he leaning but that shit he drinking no Act
|
| How you getting money, you ain’t playing wit' no sack?
|
| Keep a lama close, them fucking hammers sit back
|
| Hunnid' in the chopper, split yo' ass just like Kit Kats
|
| Turn up sucka I ain’t really with the lip smack
|
| You can front me something, you ain’t gon' get shit back
|
| Shooters coming, bitch, you gon' need a shit bag
|
| Feds in my hair like a fucking Du Rag
|
| Say he caught me lacking, why you boys ain’t do that?
|
| Known for shooting first, i seem to never shoot back!
|
| I’m a Glock boy, T-roy shoot like Novak
|
| Call up my lil shorty, leave you ass with no back
|
| And I’ll trade the world for my brother O back
|
| Riding round through Chiraq with my glizzy, know that! |