you know yeah sas streets all salute j r writer dutchbeatz yeah we the bg s i been patient fam stuck in this crazy land where men will lick your head off your shoulders so they can make a grand no snitchin naw i m bout to take a stand my trumpet get the spittin you thinkin it s finna make the band no safety blow like it s a c call me bird s eye you heard why i make p s i m about my wealth so i need a range rover that named after a book that s about myself and it s over dosha when i flip and put the razors to your face i ain t talkin bout a motorola big claims know you won t clap back at us i have your whole strip runnin like they tryin to catch a bus oh you sellin drugs you can get your melon slugged then get swept off of your feet like you fell in love i can fight but the guns preferred we them dipset thunder birds now watch we rain on them why try you re gon die i pull up in a drop with the pistol cocked when i pop i m waving bye bye you don t drive by all you is drive by they call byrd gang you heard fam we fly high okay writer my my i m sky high the fly guy pull up to your bitch escape with a whip from space i m talking sci fi why try to out do me i doubt truly cause j s an ape so stay in your place i ain t never been a slouch scooby listen you not as sharp i m getting the gwope to start you ain t seen bigger m s since the mcdonalds arc these gangstas pac at heart in front of your bitch to turn and look like what who you comin with miss you my son get the drift so right now i be dissin myself if i called you a son of a bitch give it up for the dips cause it seem so simple yet i m so sick like a ne yo single i will blast them leave them i a casket box sleepin with the saddest ock for leapin like an astronaut i keep the tech sucka so i don t care if your pops marry my mother how dare you step brother 