
作词 : Alexander Gabriel Quezada
作曲 : Alexander Gabriel Quezada
[Intro]
Why are you so serious? (Yeah, boop-boop-boop)
Gang, talkin' 'bout Glokk, you ain't talkin' 'bout nothin' (Yeah, boop-boop-boop)
Let me talk, you see what I'm sayin'? (Yeah, boop-boop-boop)
Huh
[Verse]
I'm in the trap out this bitch, countin' pesos out this bitch
Got a ta-ta-ta and got a K
Man, there's lil' people that put up a scene
I just pulled a Drac' out in that bitch to your face
Marco on me, that feel [?]
I'm finna get these boys damned, drop a Johnny Dang
Jump out the roof with that Glock, he don't never aim
Don't bring lil' G19 up, that's a devil's name
Bitch, pop shit just like that pack
Drop the chopstick, jump on that plane
Life is a gamble, get runned for the Craps
Cool it, he pull out the stick it the flat, bang
Gang, but it's fifty-round drum on the MAC
He'll pop, man, that ***** dropped down for his sеt
Tell my shooter, "Just got in," but it's still on max
***** come straight out thе top, drop flexin'
Talk, I don't like to get touched by the net
Hella thugs in the house, I let 'em mob in the frat
He drowned in that water, got the drum in the Scat
I'm stuck in the club with your gun in my hand
And the ***** got caught in that crossfire trap
Put his diamonds on the stick and they go on my set
Ain't no duck-duck-goose, but these *****s head tapped
How your best man's shooter get smacked? (****)
Me and my gang in the cul-de-sac
Boy, get the whip and shit, don't [?] overlapped (Cul-de-sac)
I got the chopper, your motion, that **** run off it go [?] (**** him up)
That boy so deep it's like quarterback
I pop out, that boy gon' go catch him a hat and that
I don't give a **** 'bout the [?] I know I'm a badass
They said your bitch got a fat ass, walk off with your mad ass
They picked up the trap, how this bitch got [?]?
Them boy got the glizzy on them and they dead ass
[?] gon' say hit your block, up on the [?]
Breakin' your racket, give a **** if you value it
We hop out of that box, y'all show up and talkin' 'bout
I ****ed a [?] bitch, man, they bangin' it
Promethazine, pour the top on my [?]
Chopstick hit Babe Ruth, my chopstick knock out a tooth
I hit up a **** *****, blocked and they poof
I hit up a **** ***** spot, I got proof
I feel like 2Pac with two Glock, I got juice
You think this a game? You get touched, it's a fool
I stunt that boy out, then I pull out my booth
They drank up this singin', just like Charlie Puth
I told the bitch, "Open mouth", tatted lil' bitch eat me down
Call that boy [?] now, drop that boy all out the front
Teed up, boy, might pop a pump, beat up that bitch like a crook
Hundred-round drum on my mouth, chopper on him, how it sound?
Young niggas play with the triggers, I'm finna shoot up your town (Brrt, brrt)
Blood everywhere, time to pick that boy up, it's enough for my cup
D .B.'s all in my back, *****, **** with the racks and I pull up a stunt
Free Sugar, he like level five in the junt
This ho go [?], what's y'all point?
Young niggas love the blunt, still smokin' doink
Said somethin' about B, well we gon' get that boy
Fifty-drum round, this ain't [?]
[Outro]
The familiar stance and swing that once made him the most fearsome slugger of them all
Yankee Stadium celebrates its birthday with one more salute to American baseball's greatest guy, Babe Ruth