Dead Homies lyrics

[Verse 1: Blacka Da Don & Smiley]
Lost a lot of brothers to the streets, don’t ask me why my n*ggas stay with it
Left the kitchen with 9 O’s, but 4 O’s is how I came in it
Whippin’, whippin’ on the stovetop
Missin’, don’t need a whole opp
Got some killers from Regent Park, up to Jamestown, down to Stovetop
61st [?] I’m reppin’
Giuseppe’s and 90 I’m steppin’
Hit the club with at least three chains but for each chain I got a weapon
I got bad hoes on Instagram sendin’ DM’s with they titties out
I get so much love in the 6 side, when I do a show bring the city out
FSO, be my crew, n*gga
Y’all already know what it do, n*gga
First thing I did was ride out soon as I got my G2, n*gga
No, this ain’t Chiraq, but I know shooters that’s fourteen
They ain’t worried ‘bout goin’ to school they likе, “Yo Blacks, I need more fiends”
My money walk out on thеm n*ggas
My money talk louder than them b*tches
I use to rock clothes from Stitches
But now my kick game is ridiculous
I can’t spend no time on these b*tches
I spend all my time chasin’ riches
I went from a half to a 4 to a 9 and I get all my bands out the kitchen
Blacka Da Don back in this b*tch, man, finna blow word in the city now
Bad b*tches tryna pay me now
I got Illy movin’ like Diddy now
MDM, FSO
Bad b*tches and they finna go
All my n*ggas, yeah, they ‘bout that dough
I be runnin’ through the 6 with my woes
I feel like LeBron James ‘cause no matter what I do n*ggas still hatin’
But I don’t pay them n*ggas no mind ‘cause right now I got they b*tches waitin’
I could text one like “Come here”
Text the other, she like, “Go where?”
And ion even show up, I’m posted in the Garden like a lawn chair
(Double G)
Word around the 6 I’m be poppin’ so n*ggas be hatin’ on me
(n*ggas hatin’ on me)
If you ain’t gettin’ no money who you got to blame, homie?
(The f*ck you blamin’?)
n*ggas don’t think around me ‘cause I got the thing on me
(.9 on me)
Went two minutes straight on the beat, pass to Double B, homie
[Verse 2: Smiley]
OLN
My n*ggas are brazy
Opps sneak diss I don’t let it phase me
Tav’ in the hood tryna chase me
Henny in my cup sayin’ "Don’t chase me"
‘Cause of the sh*ts a n*gga go brazy
f*ck these b*tches, I have no time
My Garden b*tch is my f*ckin’ .9
That b*tch’ll ride anytime
It don’t leave me, stays on my spine
I’m in your hood like it’s f*ckin’ mine
These n*ggas get amped off a bill chop
My n*gga woke up to a stack chop
I’ll pop up in front of your door like [?]
Young boys shoot your head off your neck
We tryna catch a body so we bringin’ like ten
See me and gang in front of your rec’
Clear the whole place it only takes a sec’
My bean just called said he got his cheque
‘Bout to go OT, shut down the spot
Have all these fiends runnin’ back to the spot
These fiends trip out when I tell ‘em my age
I was in the trap fiends cryin’ for H
You ain’t sh*t if you can’t trap on your lonely
n*ggas ain’t droppin’ sh*t like my Rollie
Trap got kills, it’s me, H, Smokey
It’s me, H, Blunts, hit the .40
Bling or kief, n*gga, I flip that
I’m trappin’ by the red store, yeah, Kit-Kat
Let the Mac beat off by a train tracks
Every n*gga on the block got cook crack
Every n*gga on the block got cook crack