Nigga, see
This why I poured up here really standin' up
This that, this that shit right here
They tell you to stand up rappin' this shit right here
Ayy, blrrd
Back on that time, nigga, pay attention, nigga
Yeah, man
Comin' to a city near you with this shit, man
Where you at? Pop out, nigga
(Once again, I'm locked in with TP, we finna make a hit)
Blrrd, blrrd

Ayy, ayy, I'm back on that timin'
My third weekend out the feds, I bet shit get to dyin'
I'm South Memphis menace, I make the murder rate rise
Binary triggers, AR pistol, this bitch double-firin'
Why I keep double-fi–
I lost my mind, I'm to the face tryna shoot out the road
I get mad all over again seein' my bullet holes
I took two different– same clothes, same pole
I took two different souls, same clothes, same pole

I just burnt up my Infiniti, jumped in my Bentley
Me and Hank alone up in the car, that's double digits
You tryna live what you rappin', I'm rappin' how I'm livin'
I'm just recitin' what the feds told the judge up in my sentencin'
Time to mash your gas
You ain't shot no nigga in three years, burn up your shiesty mask
Ain't got no hustle, all my niggas tryna smash for cash
Twenty extended mags
Limo tint on CPN, strikers, dealer tags

Ayy, I'm still on that timin'
My first weekend out the feds, I bet shit get to dyin'
I'm South Memphis menace, I make the murder rate rise
Binary triggers, AR pistol, this bitch double-firin'
Why I keep double-firin'?
Ayy, I lost my mind, I'm to the face tryna shoot out the road
I get mad all over again seein' my bullet holes
I took two different souls, same clothes, same pole
I took two different souls, same clothes, same pole, on gang

On gang 'nem, nigga, blrrd
On gang and them, blrrd, blrrd
Ayy, ayy, Big Blrrd

Ayy, I'm back on the road
We caught him in his favorite outfit and folded his clothes
Don't ask me how much on my neck, it worth three hundred 'bows
A lot of niggas ain't even slime, but they still wipe they nose
And get treated like hoes, ayy
My chain white and rose, but this Patek all gold, ayy
Put some miles on that Hellcat, no Sprinters at the shows, ayy
Project baby, threw a hundred up at Classic Soulz
Done sobered up, still crack a four, but I ain't gon' pour no more
Ain't no more pourin' no Tris, that's a hundred million, that wrist
Salt-droppin' on Thirtball, coincidentally fucked his bitch
And we 3-7, don't compare Choppa gang to 3-6
Send shit to Heaven, fully Blackout left him in a ditch
And fuck your gang, don't throw that shit up 'less you drop your wrist
We block shit off when we in traffic, Draco stompin' shit
Got some head from a chocolate bitch, turnt her up on some Choppa shit
Want smoke, we got a lot of it and more shots than a doctor, bitch

Ayy, ayy, I'm back on that timin'
My third weekend out the feds, I bet shit get to dyin'
I'm South Memphis menace, I make the murder rate rise
Binary triggers, AR pistol, this bitch double-firin'
Why I keep double-fi–
I lost my mind, I'm to the face tryna shoot out the road
I get mad all over again seein' my bullet holes
I took two different– same clothes, same pole
I took two different souls, same clothes, same pole