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Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Rooga
Performer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Brett Di Giacomo
Composer
Denzel Charles
Composer
Lyrics
(Shoutout Digi Prada, you hear me?)
New Glocks and XDs
We ain't shooting 'til we test these
And we ain't stopping 'til we catch three
Hit his crib and tell him, "Catch me"
They like, "They ain't playing fair," yeah, this shit that deep, look
The other day I almost clapped a nigga
Whole time it's just a fan, he's trying to snap a picture
That get back gon' be so real, we gotta wrap a nigga
We just riding, lurking, tryna catch a rapper nigga
And if we ever said it's up nigga, then it's stuck, nigga
I'm the type to come through dressed up like a cluck, nigga
Now you boxed up in that corner and you fucked, nigga
And thе last words that you heard was, "This for Duck, nigga"
And all that fake shit, don't come around with it
'Causе usually that snake shit come around with it
And usually the ones that fold say they down with it
You hanging with that nigga, he told, you must be down with it
And I ain't gotta get close to you
Nigga, I can get you touched from a ocean view
I just make a call and they do what they 'posed to do
Ain't no capping, boy, them scrappers, they stand over you
Like Dooski say, I got a bond with my shooters
And if they catch a case, then we just bond out the shooter
We might hit your crib like we running with the looters
You can try to run, but ain't no running from this Ruger
I catch the killer he getting buried alive, no buried in five
When my niggas want you, where you gon' hide? Better ride with that fire
And if we can't find you, we gon' get somebody that mean a lot to you
So, you can keep on hiding and we gon' end up taking a lot from you
And ain't no question, I don't wanna talk
Ain't no drive-by shooting, today, I wanna walk
We been at his crib some hours, today, I wanna stalk
And we ain't leaving from his crib until this nigga caught
He coming out, I saw him in HD
Ran up on him with that pipe like, "Nigga, take these"
Nigga stumbling and running, he can't shake these
Then all he seen was a flash, told him, "Say cheese," nigga
Got a lot of shit on my mind, I just keep inside
'Cause if I let it out, you might just see them demons fly
It's fucked up when you lose your nigga and see him die
That hit a part in your soul where you can't even cry
I done witnessed niggas change right in front of me
And I done witnessed niggas get changed right in front of me
Mama always asked me, "Son, what you wanna be?"
But it ain't what I wanna be, ma, it's what I'm gonna be
I always been the humble type, but never been the mumble type
Was raised around them young wild niggas in that jungle life
You wouldn't last a day, you don't wanna see what that jungle like
Them youngins riding 'round with a pipe, them youngins, they'll take your life
Most of my niggas gang bang or locked up in a cell
Sometimes, I ask the man upstairs, "Is we living in hell?"
Them shorties run up on your porch like they deliver mail
Them shorties run up with that torch and just deliver shells
See, I grew up in a city full of hatred
Where they see you got a way out, but don't wanna see you make it
They don't wanna see you take it, they don't wanna see you chase it
They gon' smile like its love, but deep down inside they hate it
See, I came along way from depression and aggression
From welfare to Section eight, I thank God 'cause it's a blessing
Brothers in and out of jails, Lord knows my mama stressing
Thinking about the life I live like, will I make it to see heaven?
Will I make it to see 27? I'll be damned, I be under a reverend
I'll be damned I let a nigga get up on me, he gon' catch six from the seven
I done seen niggas hang with niggas who done told
So, I don't fuck with them, you fuck with him, you done told
I can vouch these niggas bitches, on bro 'nem
And I can merch that on them niggas, on foenem
If that was me, won't be no witness, nah
If that was me, won't be no sentence, look
So, run up on me wrong, you better have your shit together
'Cause them killers I fuck with, they be with whatever
My niggas hopping out with them Deserts
We ain't come to send a blessing, boy, we came to send a message
Look, moral of the story, keep a weapon
If he trying to learn, he get burned 'cause I teach a lesson
Hollows open up like presents when I shoot that Smith & Wesson
For some shit he did in the past, now he ain't present, nigga
Writer(s): Unknown Writer, Brett Di Giacomo
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