Go lyrics

[Intro: Rell Vert]
We got smoke, this sh*t free
On my dead homie
(This sh*t gon' be crazy, Jacc)
Brrt
Lil' Vert
I'm wit' Opp, b*tch
You know that, ha
Long-live Jeff, long-live Scoom (Uh-huh)

[Verse 1: Rell Vert]
Ridin' the truck, we was thirsty to swing that door
Get the lo, we gon' turn the n*gga right to a ghost
Don't trust these hoes, they gon' try to backdoor
All I know is he was woofin' and his ass got smoked (Spanked)
Had on a nice watch and his ass got poked (Give me that)
They ass got a deal and they ass back poor
You ain't wanna die, then what you lacked for?
If I ever go broke, we in the trap, bro (Trap)
n*ggas played with gang, now they f*ckin' trap closed (Huh?)
My head too fried, they know we rack hoes (Grr)
I like that switch, bro like Micros
Two b*tches that kissin', that's my type hoes
You safe over here, better than Geico (Geico)
I'ma score every time, don't give me iso
When I'm on that court, ball like Mike, ho (Uh-huh)
Still'll ride a straight 8, even though they mike those (Yoom)
Tap the gas, too fast, they can't mike those (Yoom)
A .40, a Drizzy, that's my type poles (Grrt)
I hang with the savages, we won't break or fold
Don't honor the snitching, we stick to the codes
He was up in the streets back then, but he told
All rats must die, free the gang, free the bros
[Interlude: Big Opp]
Hello?
Hello?
Who this?

[Verse 2: Big Opp]
All rats must die, free the gang, free the bros
We ain't f*cking with that n*gga if we heard he a snitch
n*gga told on the body and he talk too much, like FBG Butta, that n*gga a b*tch
From the 9 to the 9, you'll get clapped up, if you mention Lil Jeff, you get shot in ya' sh*t
And it's long live Scoom, I ain't trusting no ho, if she try to backdoor, give her ass like six
I'm running with gravediggers, when I bail out the whip, guarantee I'm the one first one clapping
Fresh off the pint, I got right in a hot, got to spinning, I don't give a f*ck about rapping
The opps know I'm standing on business, I be first to shoot, so it ain't no reason for bapping
Too many times, you n*ggas was crying, and Big Opp the reason yo' son wasn't laughing
Big Opp the reason you n*ggas be dying
Big Opp the reason y'all mama's be crying
Big Opp the young n*gga, 20-years-old with two chains, and he making a bag off rhymes
Big Opp the reason he merch on his man's, so Big Opp the reason he ain't gon' slide
Big Opp the reason for a whole lot of sh*t, and I don't duck sh*t, b*tch, I be outside

[Verse 3: BloodHound Q50]
Wanna show me you rock? At the 7, they not, they gon' spin through the Pocket
Post on the 'Gram in a Scat, pull up, Fin-fin, they dumb-ass thought I was in a Charger (Go)
This sh*t getting too easy, two more hats, I'm right there with the reaper
Rinsing sh*t off for my brother, when I catch me a n*gga, I'ma send his ass way past Jesus
Glock 23 with a button, shot a whole fifty shots, it ain't even feel like I squeezed it
We get over on n*ggas, f*ck even
Stepping in blood, lil' b*tch, I'm bleeding
He say his miss dude then he should've drop 'em off
Made his ass take his last ride, the n*gga should've walked
I'm smoking Za too, [?]
If I ever sign a deal, then I'm getting n*ggas bought
We riding four deep in a Black
On the way back, tryna catch us a hat
TMC down, tell they ass get back
I'm talkin' 'bout Slide 'cause his ass a pack, he should've never lacked
I heard his ass caught four to the dome
Get caught by us, you won't make it back home
Caught his ass in traffic lookin' down at his phone
Lil Pooh dissed Z, now Lil Pooh gone