Slime-U-Out

(album: Flowers - 2023)

Jefe on the track (Yeah)
Hitmaka (Yeah, yeah)
Young jefe, homes

Million if they come and hit the spot, I got tunnel vision (Ah)
My lil' hitta busting out the car, he shoot with precision (Bah, bah, bah)
Pray I don't have to send his ass to God, so I hope he listen (Oh, Lord)
Thirty shots I'm busting at his top, ain't no way I'm missing (Thirty, thirty, brr)
All my niggas trapping, getting money, let that glizzy off (Get money)
Move my dog to L.A. on the run, he let that fifty off (Brr)
Yeen getting money, fucking bitches, what you living for? (Oh)
Money making Jefe but I slime you out like Alpo (Yes, sir)

I wasn't gon' take your bitch, but yeah, I guess she think I'm cooler (Ooh)
I don't fuck with bitch ass niggas, every nigga around me shooters (Yes, sir)
I rob a nigga for a hundred, take it to the jeweler (Ooh)
Bitch, this a Richard Mille, we don't rock no Franck Mullers (Richard Mille)
I fuck with niggas a little, but I don't bring 'em where I stay (I don't)
I'm too big for my hood, but I still be there every day (Big Glizz)
Sometimes I gotta go slide just to let 'em know I don't play (Oh)
They think that I'm a rapper, I'll take they ass away (Hahahaha)
I be with them trappers, bitch, send they ass them packages (Woo)
Got a bitch who black and rich, I think she immaculate (Oh, oh)
These niggas be tapping in, they be on some capping shit (Goddamn)
Got my Glock glued to my hip, I don't do no lacking, bitch (Goddamn, goddamn)

Million if they come and hit the spot, I got tunnel vision (Ah)
My lil' hitta busting out the car, he shoot with precision (Bah, bah, bah)
Pray I don't have to send his ass to God, so I hope he listen (Oh, Lord)
Thirty shots I'm busting at his top, ain't no way I'm missing (Thirty, thirty, brr)
All my niggas trapping, getting money, let that glizzy off (Get money)
Move my dawg to L.A. on the run, he let that fifty off (Brr)
Yeen getting money, fuckin bitches, what you living for (Oh)
Money making Jefe but I slime you out like Alpo (21, 21, 21)

Switch on my Glock, they know how we rock
I ain't got no opps, all they ass popped
They say they gon' spin, I know that they not
Filled 'em up with hollows, he said they was hot
Double back again, we ain't done, we finna smack his friend
Rock out with my twin, speak on my brother, your shit get splat again
4L 'til the end, what they riding in? I think a Benz
Broad day, we spin, jump in the box and we gone in the wind
Everybody act like they got milk, shit, we got revenge
I don't ever walk inside no church 'cause I'm committing sins
Keep on talking, we gon' make a frown up out of that grin
Bitch-ass opp won't even get on live, he got shot in his chin (21)

Million if they come and hit the spot, I got tunnel vision (Ah)
My lil' hitta busting out the car, he shoot with precision (Bah, bah, bah)
Pray I don't have to send his ass to God, so I hope he listen (Oh, Lord)
Thirty shots I'm busting at his top, ain't no way I'm missing (Thirty, thirty, brr)
All my niggas trapping, getting money, let that glizzy off (Get money)
Move my dawg to L... on the run, he let that fifty off (Brr)
Yeen getting money, fucking bitches, what you living for (Oh)
Money making Jefe but I slime you out like Alpo (Yes, sir)