No Fifties (feat. Lil Keed & Lil Gotit) - Remix

Section 8 just straight cooked this motherfucker up
 Young nigga
 Young nigga
 Young nigga
 Fucking a booster, she getting me clothes
 Beating with Rooster, we loosen the knob on the doors
 Glock 19 with one in the nose
 It's on me, but nobody knows
 So much shit on me, but nobody knows
 Damn, my nigga done killed my bro
 I don't even know which way to go
 But fuck it, thugging on my own
 Shut up, nigga, bring that shit out
 Cook up, nigga, straight out the pot
 I be tryna calm, off these meds, strapped up
 Big bruh said, "Why you in the booth Fuck the trap spot
 I don't give a fuck 'bout a whole whole hater
 I don't give, motherfuck 12, I'm a landscaper
 Young nigga loaded up, still chasin' paper
 Young nigga strapped, ready to pull your man-card
 I rock designer clothes
 Come pull up to the block and jugged at the store
 Snakes on my collar, I Gucci'd my clothes
 Putting them diamonds in that big body Rolls
 In traffic, we swap out them poles
 I let his bitch come blow me like O's
 A nigga get slimed, you know how that go
 Play with that check, then we breakin' your nose
 I'm in that Porsche Cayenne
 Exotic, I popped me a Xan
 Popped me an upper, I hope I don't land
 He pop it, he pop it, he pop it
 But he know he can get smacked like a can
 Hundred round for an advance
 Mess up, can't wait to go jump out a van
 Leave the block hot, yeah, they gon need a fan
 Fucking a booster, she gettin' me clothes
 Beating with Rooster, we loosen the knob on the doors
 Glock 19 with one in the nose
 It's on me, but nobody knows
 So much shit on me, but nobody knows
 Damn, my nigga done killed my bro
 I don't even know which way to go
 But fuck it, thugging on my own
 Shut up, nigga, bring that shit out
 Cook up, nigga, straight out the pot
 I be tryna calm, off these meds, strapped up
 Big bruh said, "Why you in the booth Fuck the trap spot
 I don't give a fuck 'bout a whole whole hater
 I don't give, motherfuck 12, I'm a landscaper
 Young nigga loaded up, still chasin' paper
 Young nigga strapped, ready to pull your man-card (Keed, talk to 'em)
 Hold up, please chill, bitch (Chill)
 Hold up, diamonds real, bitch
 Hold up, nigga talkin' crazy
 We Call of Duty kill shit (Skrrt)
 Shots fired out of that foreign
 Yeah, the fork scratching glass bowls
 Fuck mud, we drivin' side-by-sides on the road (Side-by-sides)
 Tear it up, ooh
 Yeah, they talkin' 'bout, "Talk to 'em, Prince Slatty Slatty
 Work ethic so crazy, I ain't average
 Balenciaga, I don't never wear Bally (Balenci', Balenci')
 I ain't gotta finesse, just know a nigga havin'
 Clean image, I ain't get extra tatted
 But just know I get extra active
 Niggas on Instagram typin', they laughing
 Well, drop a pin, I'ma pull up straight casket
 Fucking a booster, she gettin' me clothes
 Beating with Rooster, we loosen the knob on the doors
 Glock 19 with one in the nose
 It's on me, but nobody knows
 So much shit on me, but nobody knows
 Damn, my nigga done killed my bro
 I don't even know which way to go
 But fuck it, thugging on my own
 Shut up, nigga, bring that shit out
 Cook up, nigga, straight out the pot
 I be tryna calm, off these meds, strapped up
 Big bruh said, "Why you in the booth Fuck the trap spot
 I don't give a fuck 'bout a whole whole hater
 I don't give, motherfuck 12, I'm a landscaper
 Young nigga loaded up, still chasin' paper
 Young nigga strapped, ready to pull your man-card