Them ###### get on y'all ass
y'all play with me like
I ain't worse
Tryna gossip up the blogs
like y'all ain't said my name first
He a junkie
he ain't shot his gun yet
he blame Percs
Shot a video and had a shootout
in the same shirt
What you know 'bout poppin' out
and tryna hit they face first
They like smurk your ass be trippin'
better put your case first
Chokin' who I heard them rumors
###### better play slow
I don't want no ###### who you catch
I want the one I paid for
We on his ass he in the A
you see how long they stay for
Ain't no hotel room we pop outside
the Hyatt with Dracos
Hellcats they get off any scene
the police chase those
Trollin' ass we shot your homie
we ain't know he can take those
If I say your name don't post it
opps be on all kind of shit
Ain't got time to watch your page to see
if ###### died or shit
I know bitches set you up
literally ###### dyin' to hit
In this industry ain't what it seem
this shit be counterfeit
Ain't no lackin'
she say I'm a ##### from the trenches
with a accent
Why you askin' me
who shot your homie
why you askin'
You got my number
you post shit on the 'Gram
you movin' backwards
You lucky I don't be doin' shit
for the 'Gram
you ###### cowards
Better not believe no rumors
rest in peace to Koopa
I jumped on the school bus
and I had brung a Ruger
Always drunk an eight of Act'
I never drunk a cooler
They get your location
they might pop outside in Ubers
When his goofy ass jumped in the streets
His ass a hooper
I know this shit don't matter
I took a shower with a cougar
Bring him out retirement
he gon' kill you for that mula
Catch him in the mornin'
and wake him up that boy a rooster
He took it to trial
I tried to tell him it was stupid
They gave him so much time
his knees got weak
and he was woozy
Watch the shit you say
the feds be listenin' to the music
And they gon' take your lyrics
and build a case
and try to use it
D.A. dropped my murder
didn't have evidence to prove it
I think my house is haunted yeah
by who The ghost of Pookie
He ain't killed nobody
but keep rappin' 'bout the shootings
Still ain't got revenge yet
but keep makin' up excuses
Cuz done drank so much lean
that his gut got big as Gucci's
Told him quit while he ahead
and don't go out like Whitney Houston
He got caught without it
now they robbin' him for his rubies
He wouldn't give it up
so he got buried in his Cuban
Better not believe no rumors
rest in peace to Koopa
I jumped on the school bus
and I had brung a Ruger
Always drunk an eight of Act'
I never drunk a cooler
They get your location
they might pop outside in Ubers
When his goofy ass jumped in the streets
His ass a hooper
I know this shit don't matter
I took a shower with a cougar
Bring him out retirement
he gon' kill you for that mula
Catch him in the mornin'
and wake him up that boy a rooster