[Intro]
Drum Dummie
[Verse 1]
Everybody load up, man, this a junkie runner
I gave that n*gga five rocks, yeah, everybody enter
Pull up at the corner store, go get a thermal too
Gotta hide my tats, I bet nobody said we did it, dude
f*ck on his sister, laugh about it, she don't even know
Smoke a joker, park the car right by the corner store
We full of sticks too, we loaded in this b*tch
Back to the top, we in the Heights tryna blam a b*tch
Pull up on him at the red light and lift his soul with this
I bet I be that demon child them dudes be talking 'bout and sh*t
Shells hopping out the bottom, note the crime scenes and sh*t
Bet I bat the f*ck out a n*gga just like I do a b*tch
Go with your move and you'll get famous, he know how it go
That badass signature, yeah that go baby blow
Bust his ass, go get that bag, since you already know
Go hit the show, we turnt up there like f*ck a n*gga, though
[Chorus]
Turn this b*tch into a purge, sh*t, what you mean by that?
sh*t, my youngin got your children, you better hit me back
sh*t, I want fifty flat, oh he ain't having that? (What?)
Ain't goin' down, cut him open, we ain't playing that
Grab the b*tch when she leave work (Come here), like, "Where your man at?"
I heard your baby daddy had them bricks, sh*t, we ain't playing that
Better hit him up, oh, he don't talk? sh*t, we ain't havin' that (For real?)
Cut her middle finger off, it's f*ck you, she ain't comin' back
[Verse 2]
Ransom notes, don't play 'bout that, man I need all that
The only thing I'm asking you is, "Tell me where your man at"
I heard he had them brick, that n*gga, he the sh*t
Them instagram posts, he flexing bags, send me that sh*t
Or we gon' bust him up
Shoot your children, do you love 'em, bruh?
'Cause I need all my money and you steady playin', your time is up
Send pistols, don't give a f*ck, tell 12 I'll zip 'em up
Man, he give me my money, have his peep, and we can get the f*ck
I been the man, I handle business if M's aren't adding up
Like, "Bae, you got the money?" "Daddy got it, please come save us"
But now he looking stupid, profit money, bag ain't adding up
On the way to get it, jack the plug, but he ain't giving up
So he bring his lil' stick and got a cutter, now he loadin' up
Meaning he gon' live or he gon' die just for his family trust
And he gon' go out with a bang but he know he don't give a f*ck
Now this a prime example how you make a purge stuck
[Chorus]
Turn this b*tch into a purge, sh*t, what you mean by that?
sh*t, my youngin got your children, you better hit me back
sh*t, I want fifty flat, oh he ain't having that? (What?)
Ain't goin' down, cut him open, we ain't playing that
Grab the b*tch when she leave work (Come here), like, "Where your man at?"
I heard your baby daddy had them bricks, sh*t, we ain't playing that
Better hit him up, oh, he don't talk? sh*t, we ain't havin' that (For real?)
Cut her middle finger off, it's f*ck you, she ain't comin' back