Aired lyrics

[Intro]
Dolan on the keyboard
This is a Dolan Beats Production

[Chorus: Chief Keef]
Blunt full of dead oppers
National Guards can't stop us
Paranoid tell me who knocking
Looking on the camera tryna see who's plotting on me
Only been a day but I took two trips
Bought a five-seven and it came with three clips
Pinky rings on me like I won three ships (yes it is, yeah)
Two fifties I'm one hundred
Feeling like a champion
Run it up get my stampede on (yes I is)
I'm feeling like Rick-Flair
Don't want it if it don't got stairs
Talk that sh*t get aired

[Verse 1: Chief Keef]
Well look who it is , got Obama on my wrist
Got money to get, no time for your b*tch
Doing straight physicals, no time for a diss
And the thing on my wrist, like a bucket of p*ss
Rolled down on a hoe, get up in the ship
So motherf*cking sharp, might cut me a b*tch
On top of the foreign, about to take me a pic
Just pulled to the crib, about to take me a b*tch
Grandma used to be like, "Where'd you get that money?"
She seen me up running it, with sh*t that they come and get
Now it's diamonds on the cross, feeling so f*cking boss
Might buy me a vault, just tell me the cost
House so far out, you gone tell me you lost
All these sticks, we can stampede the law (yeah, yeah)
All this ice I can make me a rink
All this gold I can make me a sea
All this surf I can make me a beach (yeah, yeah)
Just to sleep it's gone take me a week
You slipping I'll take me a three
Folks had that K in his briefs
[Chorus: Chief Keef]
Blunt full of dead oppers
National Guards can't stop us
Paranoid tell me who knocking
Looking on the camera tryna see who's plotting on me
Only been a day but I took two trips
Bought a five-seven and it came with three clips
Pinky rings on me like I won three ships (yes it is, yeah)
Two fifties I'm one hundred
Feeling like a champion
Run it up get my stampede on (yes I is)
I'm feeling like Rick-Flair
Don't want it if it don't got stairs
Talk that sh*t get aired

[Verse 2: Fredo Santana]
Colling at the top, smoking dope, I'm just laughing
Let me see a opp, he get smoked, I'm gone whack him
Thought he wanted smoke sh*t, now he in a casket
The way I stretch this work
You would thought it was gymnastics
Bought a new crib, and that was off my last flip
Hard on these hoes, you can ask my last b*tch
Me and Sosa, getting money, blue hunnids
sh*tting, diarrhea, loose stomach
Diamonds so sick it'll make a n*gga vomit
DooWop in the cut and he gone hit you with that Tommy
I'm really with this sh*t, it ain't nothing to catch a body
Strapped up, every time I hit the party
Weed so strong man it got a n*gga coughing
Gun so long I'm like get up in this coffin
Shoot-outs broad day, man I do that very often (what?)
Real street n*gga, I'll slap a n*gga momma
[Chorus: Chief Keef]
Blunt full of dead oppers
National Guards can't stop us
Paranoid tell me who knocking
Looking on the camera tryna see who's plotting on me
Only been a day but I took two trips
Bought a five-seven and it came with three clips
Pinky rings on me like I won three ships (yes it is, yeah)
Two fifties I'm one hundred
Feeling like a champion
Run it up get my stampede on (yes I is)
I'm feeling like Rick-Flair
Don't want it if it don't got stairs
Talk that sh*t get aired