| Yeah nigga this shit still goes on
|
| Punk motherfuckas
|
| I want you to listen to every
|
| Motherfucking word in this song bitch
|
| Cause this is directly to you ho
|
| You motherfuckin' in the face ass
|
| Cross this nigga, fuck y’all
|
| This for you nigga, bitch
|
| ]Hook]
|
| Fuck what u heard
|
| Fuck what u heard about me nigga
|
| Step up to these killas
|
| Feel the fuckin' trigger
|
| Fuck what you heard if ya ain’t heard this
|
| That I roll wid a group ah niggas quick to throw fits
|
| Quick to go get
|
| Quick to go rob him a bitch
|
| Quick to go lay down some platinum hits
|
| I’m tired of you bitches go runnin' y’all mouth
|
| Talkin' about, we ain’t really keepin' it South
|
| I put the gun in yo mouth
|
| And blow ya motherfuckin' brains out
|
| Fuck what you heard and it just no doubt, nigga
|
| Niggas like to gossip like some bitches
|
| They doubt me 'round they bitches
|
| Cause they bitches groupie bitches
|
| And since I cut Three 6
|
| These bitches wanna claim my dick
|
| We throwin' hits, they throwin fits
|
| These bitches need to quit
|
| They wanna be down wid it
|
| But these niggas won’t admit it
|
| They droppin' to they knees
|
| They beggin' please to be a 6
|
| You niggas on my dirt
|
| I smack you like a birch
|
| Because you fulla shird
|
| And by the way, fuck what u heard boy
|
| Hook (2x)
|
| My nigga fuck it what u heard
|
| You need to find out the truth
|
| Or get ya guns and come and test this hundred ninety proof
|
| Pounds, and silent spotted
|
| Nuthin' but tickets in my wallet
|
| All these hatas got me scopin' man
|
| They still can’t stop it for sure
|
| There’s crossers all up in this shit
|
| Crossers all up in my click
|
| Got most of them crossers out
|
| But still I got a few to get
|
| Those who used to be wid me like
|
| Hope that boy ahead and he fall
|
| Sick ah hearin' from they dogs
|
| Man you need some beats from Paul
|
| Never happy keep on rappin'
|
| Tryna live as good as me
|
| Just bought my crib for a half a mil
|
| My life complete
|
| I guess that’s why they dis-like
|
| And claim my shit, wouldn’t twirk
|
| Tryna make them locals come above me
|
| But it didn’t work
|
| I got you bitches hot (hot)
|
| You hopin' that I stop (stop)
|
| I’m ten years in the game
|
| Wid out a fuckin' clock (clock)
|
| It’s like I hear me
|
| And it’s like I don’t hear me
|
| I guess I get bad off in these streets
|
| While they bail off
|
| I was born up in the ghetto streets
|
| Always learn to pack the heat
|
| Call me on my cellular phone
|
| If you want that work from me
|
| Cowards like to talk and plan
|
| Point some fingers, say some names
|
| Nigga if you claim you buck
|
| Handle ya fuckin' business man
|
| I been rollin' from the start
|
| Always snatch a coward car
|
| Evergreen is where I’m from
|
| Sippin on the syrup we slum
|
| In the night we smoke and light
|
| At the club we start a fight
|
| When we pimpin' on yo bitch
|
| We show them golds and flash the ice
|
| Hook ('til fade) |