Bizarre lyrics

[Intro: KrispyLife Kidd]
Keep my mouth closed, I don't f*ck with feds
KripsyLife, n*gga

[Verse 1: KrispyLife Kidd]
Me and [?] was in LA, we was busting heads
Get a knife [?] across his cheek, now he a [?] head
I kept my mouth closed like I don't f*ck with feds
I did some bullsh*t, cut my hair like I don't f*ck with dreads
That's why I got the braids now
I hit this b*tch off my furniture, damn, me and lil' baby got the same couch
I'm in a two-story with two pools, we ain't got the same house
You was the man in high school but you a lame now
It's been a wrap for other n*ggas since I came out
Yo mama should've swallowed you when you came out
The chop make a beat against some ribs, you in pain now

[Verse 2: StanWill]
I'm about to box you in, Kidd, I ain't gon' lie, man
Huh, think I need a diaper, my Amiris, they bе full of sh*t
c*cky as the f*ck but my b*tch say I'm full of it
Lil' lever turn thе sports mode when I pull on it
T-double H-L, I'm with IUR
Yo whole gang could f*cking skydive, they ain't fly as ours
Chunky-ass shoes, skinny jeans, I live life bizarre
If we catch him out, off his top, he ain't write a bar
I think yo b*tch wanna be with us 'cause we the littiest
Dog sh*t, big sh*tters 'round me, we the sh*ttiest
I think
I'm a lil' man, tryna fight? I'ma blicky it
Up sh*t, we can talk sh*t, you can't humble us
Sixty hanging out the bop stick like a shuttle bus
It's Dior, Balenciaga, Yeezy if I Double Dutch
Really in the field, you set a play, you get your huddle bust
[Verse 3: KrispyLife Kidd]
They say it's cold in these streets, you better bundle up
When I shoot heat for the beef, he got [?] up
I'm out here tripping, not giving no f*ck
You think StanWill gon' fight? Boy, you dumb f*ck
I mean, you dumb as f*ck
Pop a n*gga at a wedding, he done fell into the punch
Only reason I did it is 'cause he was 'bout to clutch
I don't even f*ck with Nick Cannon but I brought the drum
Smoked that n*gga like a 'Wood, I got a fonto stuffed
Damn, I mean, I got a fonto tucked
Them ain't yo buffs, boy, them b*tches big as f*ck
Them b*tches just might be a [?] them b*tches fake as f*ck

[Verse 4: StanWill]
Let the boys pursue, I'm off-road 'cause I'm Trailhawking
Hopping on our wave? We'll knock the f*cking sails off him
The opps could never take me out, boy, y'all can't even spell "coffin"
Could never chase a b*tch 'cause lately I been chasing mail often
Funny I'm with Kidd, I got grown man pape on me
Man, this b*tch so f*cking bougie, think she hate Coney
Bro done seen so many f*cking keys, he could be Beethoven
We just got the drop, start the shoot or we gon' lay on it
Wouldn't even tuck a f*cking shirt, boy, my chain hang
All this sh*t around, sh*ttyBoyz, yeah, that's gang gang
Check the Apple Watch, think it's time to the Plain Jane
Chop got three hundred f*cking shots, yeah, bang-bang
[Outro: StanWill]
Huh, yeah