Do Bout It

Ayy, ayy, ooh
On foenem grave, you already know how this shit go
Back the fuck up
All you bop-ass hoes, all you goofy-ass niggas
Ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy

We killed your partner, now what you gon' do 'bout it?
Pick up a gun, stop rapping and shoot 'bout it
Don't let me drive your car, I might shoot out it
Knock him off-balance while he is rocking New Balance
We got four cutters inside of the Sprinters
Shout out to the gang, they turn niggas to sprinters
Foenem on D like they Leonard
You better be on point like you Lillard
'Cause we posting up like centers
Ayy, ain't tryna talk or bargain with niggas
That choppa hit you, knock a part off a nigga
Oh, you the type that like argue with niggas?
Well, I'm the type to up a Carbon on niggas
I think you think that you know me but you don't really know me
If you did, you would know I got it on me
I'm something like Manu Ginobli
When I got it on me, we slid and hit four of your homies
One thing I never did is let 'em hold me
Talking that shit, nigga, you gotta show me
He tried to run, he caught a four piece
These niggas broke, they ain't got no cheese
Hop in a foreign, it ain't got no key
You smoking OG? That shit so cheap
That's like you going buying some OE
I am not 2-4 but I fuck with Kobe
They say Red Bull give you wings
What, you wanna fly now? You wanna die now?
I'm everywhere like Wi-Fi, he caught a shot from the sideline
You better stick to the guideline
That choppa hit you, in a few it'll turn a nigga from 6'2" to 5'9"
We'll come through with five nines, I'm from 5-9
I put a switch on the Glock for the (Brrt)
So please, don't run up on me, you gon' hear (Brrt)
I got some niggas, hop out with that (Brrt)
But I got that chop, so you gon' hear (Brrt, boaw-boaw-boaw, brrt)
That's half of them niggas
And why is you riding without it, lil' nigga?
That's how you die little quicker, we slide with them blickas
Boy, is you drunk off some liquor?
My niggas kill killers, we hopping out killing, ayy
Fuck how you feel, I don't got no feelings
Shoot at his grill 'til he ain't got no ceilings
Back to the money, I ran up a ticket
Just last week, I ran up a fifty
I was just broke, I didn't have a penny
Now I put money on niggas that envy
We do hits at night and the daytime
Folks hawked 'em down like he was a K9
I'm talking face to face like FaceTime
But I just heard it through grapevine
I keep a .9 like Rajon
I keep a hoodie like Trayvon
He got hit but it ain't done
Then I run up on 'em like I ain't done
Now we smoked your partner and you ain't even did shit
Everyone out there looking like, "Who did this?"
You talking 'bout some shit that we been did
It ain't no talking, we standing on business
I'm really having my way with this shit
You better duck when I'm waving a blick
I'll get on tracks and play with the shit
I don't even know what else to say on this shit

On foenem grave, you already know how this shit go
Got my blick on me, got my stick on me
Don't touch me, don't even look at me
Back the fuck up
All you bop-ass hoes, all you goofy-ass niggas