Yeah.
Okay.
No tone.
Turn my voice up.
Yeah.
Say less.
Tired of all the fake *.
Yeah.
Tired of all the bullshit.
Tired of all these niggas talking about they gonna do *.
Tired of all these niggas ready to squash *.
You gotta follow me, I ain't squash the *.
Say less.
Say less.
Say less.
Say less.
Say less.
Say less.
I ain't squash the *, J.C. can tell me to do it.
I'ma tell him no.
OGs get on the blogs, act like they killers.
Most of them niggas hoes.
Trenches, I might drink, but I can't count that nigga baby hoes.
I grew up a screw-up after he threw crib up with the stove.
Fifteen roaches crawled up on my face.
Diddy probably trolled.
I get a Grammy.
I'm on stage with killers.
How I be at shows?
No gimmick.
I told Pooley just like Kendrick with his shiesty flow.
I used to look up to them hood legends.
Some of them ices though.
Say less.
I had to shop at Payless.
For lawyers, you can't pay less.
I can swipe off lawyers and for choppers with my Apex.
Dirk ain't from the trenches.
Who the * can really say that?
Dirk ain't for his niggas.
Who the * can really say that?
Say less.
Say less.
Say less.
Say less.
Say less.
Say less.
Say less.
Nigga.
Man, what?
I ain't gotta talk about it.
Now I got it, look.
Nigga stylists get they style from me, I promise ya.
I don't want the bitch if she don't do it sloppy, yeah.
We not hearing it, barbarians.
The bitch was rocky.
Her head look sloppy.
The feds on my body cause my Cuban ain't so ackee.
Look, her mess for Christmas even if it ain't no holiday.
I slay, * breakfast.
She gon' eat me up and swallow me.
I'm like, yeah.
My ex bitch don't like me but she still follow me cause I'm lit.
And my enemies shootin' in the air like hell, Mary, we bitch.
Bli-
Bli-
Bli-
Bli-

Bli-
Bli-
Bli-
Bli-
Bli-
Look, after all that I did, sorry, baby, I don't wanna find no love in Stardust.
Ratchet.
Ratchet on me, ratchet right on my hip.
Pass it.
So little bros get here, gon' empty it up cause
That Tracy McGrady, I'ma keep one up in my shed.
Let her flack the Navy, all my niggas ain't with nothin'.
Let's go me and Dirkie, oh, you know we, we wildin'.
Word to my me, Montana got book for Serenanti.
Spend the blocks, send the shots.
So much shots, hit his body, you gon' think a nigga.
Got the monkey pox, movin' on dead silence.
Nigga, it's the wolves on our side, movin' like Little Red Robin, who he on all the time.
Tired of all the fake *, tired of all the bullshit.
Tired of all these niggas talkin' bout they gon' do *.
Tired of all these niggas ready to squad *.
You gotta follow me, I ain't squashing *.
Say less.
Say less.
Say less.
Say less.
Say less.
Say less.
Say less.
Say less, nigga.
Man, what?