What I Be On

(Album: 23 - 2018)

Watch his tone, he speak wrong and he might be gone
What's in my hands, long as fitness, ain't a microphone
Might step and point it at your top, he tryna strike your dome
That dump shit, fuck diss songs, that's what I be on
Stepping with my brother, fuck it if he right or wrong
I'm still that same nigga, by myself when I'm alone
If we can't get you, we come peek-a-boo inside your home
But let me get back to the basics, bitch my pockets strong

It's cancer in the air, we bringing out them rods
Spin in broad daylight or we coming after dark
I'm tryna bust a nigga's shit and send him to the lord
Pull up with fifty in the clip, this bitch gon' make some noise
Bitch I'ma let you know, I can't go back and forth
Let's go to war, catch your car, knock your shit in park
Got twin cutters, brand new Glocks for you and all your boys
It's your decision, you could lose your brain or lose your heart
You doing all that shit for clout but you won't make it far
I keep it smart, gon' finish all that pussy shit they start
Dive in that water and that's danger, you can't swim with sharks
Dive in that water and that's danger, you can't swim with sharks

Watch his tone, he speak wrong and he might be gone
What's in my hands, long as fitness, ain't a microphone
Might step and point it at your top, he tryna strike your dome
That dump shit, fuck diss songs, that's what I be on
Stepping with my brother, fuck it if he right or wrong
I'm still that same nigga, by myself when I'm alone
If we can't get you, we come peek-a-boo inside your home
But let me get back to the basics, bitch my pockets strong

Automatic, hop out and go chase it, we make sure you face 'em
Bitch I need my meds 'fore I go crazy, menace I was labeled
I'm a nineties baby, I'm on top 'cause the drum on eighty
Pop his top and watch his body lock up like I fucking tased it
And I'm faded, Hi-Tech in my cup, it got me feeling lazy
Run up playing, I'ma split your shit, this AR aim go brazy
Twenty-three the greatest, fuck these pussy niggas who be hating
You can be the latest to get your shit bust all on the pavement
Can't touch a nigga, money long, I got a lot of cash
Fuck a nigga, cross the line and gotta drop a bag
We clutching pistols, pussy bitch, don't make my choppers spazz
Hop in a rental, out the window, that's a bodybag

Watch his tone, he speak wrong and he might be gone
What's in my hands, long as fitness, ain't a microphone
Might step and point it at your top, he tryna strike your dome
That dumb shit, fuck diss songs, that's what I be on
Stepping with my brother, fuck it if he right or wrong
I'm still that same nigga, by myself when I'm alone
If we can't get you, we come peek-a-boo inside your home
But let me get back to the basics, bitch my pockets strong