(KJ, what you got goin' on man?) Let's go, let's go, yeah Back of the Phantom to get me some head Ain't got no purple? Then get me some red (yeah, woo) (Young Nick Papz, make it slap) Nigga know I back out every time the pack out, big boy straighten offenders (what?) I was in the trap house chillin' with the Mac out Gang-gang, me and my members (gang-gang) Nigga, we ain't totin' no sticks 'round here Just glicks 'round here with extenders (big boy) Nigga, don't take no pics 'round here, everybody on parole, shit sensitive (yeah) I had the check, fell in love with it I got the neck for the hell of it Money, respect, get a Cullinan Come down a lil' block like a elephant I got the lil' Glock with the drum in it (yeah) We the ones, they the ones crackin' Now forty-five-hundred my jacket They say I'm too rich to be strappin', yeah, ooh (brrt) Suicide doors on the Phantom, it look like you get in it backwards Double platinum, that's a double murder when we slide, I just put a hit on a rapper Sneak dissin', 'fore you know it, you talkin' to God And he tell you get in the casket (nigga, get over there) Stack up the M's and spend all the odds, we takin' this shit to the maximum, yeah Must be out of your mind, you think we ain't spinnin' for bro? We spinnin' for sure Had a switch on me, not a .38, dummy, boy, we be spinnin' for ghosts They put up for show, we spin in the cribs and traps fasho, we spinnin' his shows And we took L's fasho, but in Chicago, they know we winnin' fasho You do it for what? You better not say that you do it for (boom), them niggas be talk That nigga was fucked, the moment he ran and he knew he ain't duckin', his ass out of luck We do it for Von, we don't wait 'til it die down, we load and we do it tomorrow We do it on feet, ask all the opps about us or who say we shoot out the cars That Rolls better be bulletproof, lil' nigga, you know we gon' shoot at them stars Them lil' bitches ours, I told him to fuck her and slut her and send her right back to the blogs Glock with a switch, two of those when I ride through the city (when we ride) And we thought a nigga died, but he didn't (but he died) Two Glocks when you ride through Philly (let's get it) Ten and up if you dyin' in Philly (And you know we slide to Philly) (Ten and up if you dyin' in Philly) (Ten and up if you dyin' in Philly) (Yeah, Baby) Anythin' close to a dub And a youngin'll walk for a hundred, he down to get caught Long as I send him the items, consider it bought I call the shots, I'm the boss I'm ridin' with a semi Two of them, I can't die in my city Do a shootin', it ain't gotta be pretty Catch him out, and we handle the business I ain't gettin' in no nigga business Thirty million, my mind in the trenches still Fuck her good, make her nigga not turn her on They got brodie on camera, he comin' home Run it up from a scale to a microphone Treat Dior like a muhfuckin' Nike store And you know he ain't that, why you hype him up? Any time we have smoke, it just pipe me up Never know the outcome 'til you try your luck Get whatever you want when I'm tryna fuck And we chillin', nobody can't fuck with us Put the four in the P with the fuckin' M I should never bring the pain on my fuckin' self Really need it if I ever ask for help I just know I'ma blow if it's life or death I made all them hoes who ain't never left I'm way higher, I'm up in my altitude I was broke, I woke up with an attitude Now you play with the kid, he embarrass you I jump right in the field with no parachute and one pair of shoes