[Verse 1: MC Ren]
n*ggas in the hood lookin at me crazy
Telling n*ggas that they wanna f*ck my old lady
Same f*cking sh*t every day at 8 o'clock
n*gga start my day off raisin off the c*ck
I throw the khakis on, with the t-shirt
Never knowin when a n*gga might hit the dirt
I'm thinking, how in the f*ck can I get high quicker
Mix the blunt with some muthaf*ckin malt liquor
These n*ggas that I love, I don't trust them
But I stay close to them - In case I gotta do them
We from the same set, but that don't mean sh*t no more
I be premeditatin with the .44 (.44)
My hoe be tellin a n*gga to peel they caps back
Cause I know where them n*ggas hide they sh*t at
sh*t be on my mind, return a shot call
Broke as f*ck, it's about to get hot, y'all
[Hook: Bigg Rocc]
n*ggas starving while you're home with the mills
n*ggas killing while you're doin dope deals
Out flossing, throwing 100 $ bills
Time to set yo ass up for the kill
Death of a shot caller, who can you trust?
It might be your number one n*gga that bust
A cap, he's the next one to take charge
Smoke him and his b*tch in his backyard
[Verse 2: MC Ren]
A n*gga sitting on the curb
Here that n*gga come bumping with the suburb
Got my n*ggas on point, same n*ggas he be f*ckin hoes with
And rolling up the blunts when he wanna get lit
Homie, when that n*gga put the mutahf*cka in park
That's the signal, little n*gga, pump three in his heart
Don't feel sh*t, cause it's real sh*t, he a b*tch
n*ggas in the hood doing bad while he getting rich
Off this sh*t we be killing n*ggas for
Can't make a move unless this muthaf*cka say so
n*gga, f*ck that, I'm running this sh*t
I'mma look him in his eyes when his punk-ass getting hit
But if you miss, n*gga, I'mma kill you
Cause if he get away, muthaf*cka, then we all through
f*ck three shots, n*gga, add two
And handle what the f*ck you gotta do
Kill the shot caller
[Interlude]
Man, you know we been smoking n*ggas for this muthaf*cka
This n*gga ain't paid us sh*t, man
(I know, dog)
Hold up, hold up, hold up, dog
Man, gimme the gat, I - damn
Hey n*gga, you got my muthaf*cking money?
n*gga, f*ck yo money, n*gga
No n*gga, f*ck you
( *shots* )
Oh sh*t, oh sh*t...
Damn!
[Verse 3: Tha Chill]
These OG's got me twisted like twizzler
Got me heated and hot, and all I'm thinkin is killin ya
Peelin ya cap back, like Starter, fool
I'm comin to get you n*ggas off my block, so I pack a full
Glock with big slugs, and you know I buck no doubs
Cause you know a n*gga steelo, how I did them fools a week ago
One week passed, I'm hearin you wanna wet us
When you see Ren, Rocc, Tha Chill, you're puttin on the jetters
What the f*ck? These n*ggas tryin to bust on me?
So I'm c*ckin up the can and ready to make them do some gas
And do some flippin, and all that
Cause n*ggas out here shot call, get they ass jacked
And that's the main fact, big payback for you punk muthaf*cks
Disrespectin the crew, it's mandatory that I buck
Ass down from Comptown, Mr. Shot Caller
Gonna be a fast faller if he ain't a fast talker
Fast walker, or better yet better be a fast runner
Chill on the scope with the cannon, finna gun ya
Dumpin 9 to the gut like "n*gga, what?"
This ol' BG big baller, f*ck the muthaf*ckin shot caller
[Hook: Bigg Rocc]
n*ggas starving while you're home with the mills
n*ggas killing while you're doin dope deals
Out flossing, throwing 100 $ bills
Time to set yo ass up for the kill
Death of a shot caller, who can you trust?
It might be your number 1 n*gga that bust
A cap, he's the next one to take charge
Smoke him and his b*tch in his backyard