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[Chorus] 2x We won, we won And then we shot that BB gun And they lost, and they lost Til we took they shit, now its time to floss 22 year old 17 war vet Life in the fast-lane, little red corvette Little red handkerchief, hangin out the right side Back pocket jeans fallin, Couple my evisu signed Yep we do shine, and they gon’ hate But they hated Jesus baby we won’t break So we ride like 4 Pirelli’s So secured no security, no protectin no comparing Lok and heavy, Ocean 11 Aviators, both tickers, so figures No playas, I’m Hollygrove to the heart Hollygrove from the start Don’t cross Earhardt Boulevard where the ward I come from 171 shot, never that (blum blum) Brrrt Brrrt! Pop Pop! Clap Clap! What the fuck, Hollygrove stand up Nigga! [Chorus] Get ‘em get ‘em Weezy hit ‘em where you kill ‘em easy Sit em in the river, leave em, they find em tomorrow evening Sinkin or probly drinkin that syrup Thinkin I won’t slip, even though I’m leanin like a broke hip He don’t know I got the nina wit the 4 clip Thats a somersault back spin full flip for ya? Push this button, I flip out and hit something Miss nothin i'm just bustin until this scene clean 12 hundred for the jeans stop playin Hundred dollars for the glock in my pants Who the man? I am when I stand with it pointed right at ya face Knock the brains from the back of ya neck for lack of respect I- strap a jet black gat ‘til the deck Tell the mama to bury me with that, No Bullshittin’ My hood getting kinda crazy where I be So Ronie's with me cuz he's the OG [Chorus] Fresh out the back seat of the figgity phantom The haters I make em mad em when I wave at em like what up?! If it ain't about money I keep goin I tryna get that green, niggas tryna mow my lawn But Fuck, them boys I got the shottie on my arm If them boys run up I leave their bodies on the lawn And Duck the fuck out a there, cuz baby its hot out there If this was a movie it’s time to roll the credits, cut! Its all over, all of ya brains is all over the motherfuckin’ block! I’m a motherfuckin’ rock! Hard body eagle street 17 shots Night vision double-clip, hot steady beam, glat! Pop! Drop little man drop This is not for little bitches you man or a fox I’m layin in the drop, thinking of more money Cash money, young money Take money, your money. [Chorus]