[Lil Durk:]DJ FMCTAyy, they told me I can't be around no gang membersY'all got me fucked up, niggaI go everywhere with my killers, manDJ Bandz, oh, manYeah, let's get it[Lil Durk {Pooh Shiesty}:]Throw that mask on, when you jump out first you better blast (Yeah)We don't like slow shit, on hits, them switchers (Brrt) fast (Gang)Ain't gon lie, the city haul with strikers, they don't last (Turn up)When you poppin' with your killers, you better check your guys (Man, what)We don't party on other blocks, they fuck with other opps (Let's get it)Then come 'round like you gang, that got your brother shot (Brrah)You say his name inside a song, that got your brother hot (Let's get it)Then leave him hangin' without a lawyer, that shit dumb as fuck (Pussy)You come outside without your gun, lil' boy, you dumb as fuck (Dumb as fuck)Ain't no quick run to the store, they pop out, fire you up (Brrah)I told my PO through the gate that I get high as fuck (I get high as fuck)She ask me how high do I get, I told her high as Duck (Tooka)My brother told me get some property, I kept gettin' Glockies (Gettin' Glocks)I told him I only drink wocky, he say I'm gettin cocky (Let's get it)All them bitches wanna fuck me, I don't give them moneyOne bitch thought I told her, "Yeah," I said, "You better block me"He survived one to the head, but it fucked up his bodyYou think he off a eight or red the way that nigga noddin'?He don't even know 'bout drugs, he sell lean, OxyContinYou tryna judge him off his looks, that lil' boy Ashley RobinMan, he talkin' 'bout gang in this bitch {Why he callin', talkin' 'bout gang?}He ain't get back from that one shit, man his gang ain't on shit'Fonem posted up outside, Dracos hanging and shitBefore he died, his ass a goofy, now he famous and shit {Brrr, brrr, brrr}[Pooh Shiesty:]I'm King Draco, got my name off drilling, check the record, bitch (Slatt, slatt, slatt, slatt)If pussy dropped this song about me, he get found without his dickSend off a bag 'bout my lil' cousin, they fakin', they'll call the quitsThey made me mad enough, I spin through there myself, say the wrong shitMight still sip when I get low, but I prefer Wock over tripFucked up and let me in the door, I went fully on auto sticksI'm Mr. Slime 'Em Out, I caught his backdoor, unlocked on the lickOr Mr. Leave No Evidence, know my criminal book hella thick (On God)You niggas goose, ain't got no gunYou went away, your ass is dumbI'm on my sixth Moncler this winter, I couldn't wait to get some moneyMy lil' nigga up four souls, he caught two dressed up like a junkieThey thought I was just rappin'Lately, murder gang, that shit ain't funnyYou know the murder gang, they come through, that shit ain't funnyI'm locked in with hunters, from the God, got killers 'round the countryI might don't need to slime 'em out, just be yourself and stay 300We get money Monday through Saturday, pray to Trey Day every SundayMy clique tied up in the field, won't never hear me go out runnin'Post up a pic like I'm in LA, but the whole time I'm with gunWe ain't tryna keep hearin' 'bout that shit you did, go get active againIt's either eat or get ate on my side, I'ma fuck the drops and go and spinThree and O, we skunkin' shit, get one more kill, conceal the winBeef with us, won't never land 'till y'all get hit up with them pensCan't come around unless you get a body, chopper, F&NWe caught one of them pussies drunk, he died before he dropped the hintGot 'bout ten whips in my garage and still don't know what to get inTake all the embers out the cat, tint out the window 'fore I spin (Shh, brrr, tint out the window 'fore I spin, brrt, brrt, brrt, brrt)