This goes out to my Brooklyn crew
Put ya guns up in the air if ya feel me
(If ya feel me) Fuck ’em all day fuck ’em all night
We don’t love these hoes
This goes out to my Brooklyn crew
Put ya guns up in the air if ya feel me
(If ya feel me) Fuck ’em all day fuck ’em all night
We don’t love these hoes

Yeah, get ya ones up (put ya guns up) it’s on
Ladies know that when the sun’s up I’m gone
Fuck them bitches though, digits though
Fuck, now if I bring it niggas know what
All black gat with the mack out
I take shorty to the rest blow her back out
Sun dress undress (throw her back out) bitch
(In and out like a crack house) Keep it moving
Face off with the .38 scraped off
Keep shorty laced caked off, off an 8-ball
Know your place
Sauce scorch when ya least expect it, yeast infected
You don’t imitate bitches (Piece protected)
So I hear you hate bitches? Love the dough
(Ya flow irritate niggas) Fuck them though, it’s all out
Have a fall out, I’ll fucked ya girl
On top now we call out fuck the world
Face off!

This goes out to my Brooklyn crew
Put ya guns up in the air if ya feel me
(If ya feel me) Fuck ’em all day fuck ’em all night
We don’t love these hoes
This goes out to my Brooklyn crew
Put ya guns up in the air if ya feel me
(If ya feel me) Fuck ’em all day fuck ’em all night
We don’t love these hoes

I apologize ladies, I’m loving ya right
You must be used to me tricking but we fucking tonight
(No wine no dine) no wheeling the whip
All night long just feeling the dick beitch
(Sauce motherfucking slaying I’m saying with no delaying)
(Can you beat that? I eat that) you just playing
Nigga you never know what a chick could do
(Pull the trigger too) check the shit Jigga do
(My crew) macking the same bitch (I do)
(Back plans stack grands) daddy like I you
(Love them hoes, Jigga?) Ha, how that sound?
Women start to fall we all bat around
Let my whole team hit it (scatter ’round)
You never seen with it (pat ’em down)
Check for cream in it (these riches)
Got nothing to do with these bitches
Nothing y’all can do to stop these digits
Face off!

This goes out to my Brooklyn crew
Put ya guns up in the air if ya feel me
(If ya feel me) Fuck ’em all day fuck ’em all night
We don’t love these hoes
This goes out to my Brooklyn crew
Put ya guns up in the air if ya feel me
(If ya feel me) Fuck ’em all day fuck ’em all night
We don’t love these hoes

(Can I touch that?) What’s that? Leave it for dead
Keep ya arm over ya face my nigga (keep ya head)
Keep a mind to survive if ya sleep ya dead
Stay fly ’til ya die nigga deep with prayer
With each word ya say I guess the beef is dead
Ladies and gentlemen (like impeach the Prez)
Val-Kilmer-style nigga draw heat with Feds
Broad day like De Niro shoot all day
I’m the man fucking the tracks and you just foreplay
Get a hit I, I come through, blow up, you spit out
What up? Keep it cocked faithfully like salop
With one in the drop don’t get hit up
(I be the 4-5th flamer) and (hoes bitch shamer) what!
Clap cats, a snitch’ll give ya whole click name up
Look I done came up (and) tore a whole game up (right)
Meet me in the square with one in the chamber
The face off, nigga

This goes out to my Brooklyn crew
Put ya guns up in the air if ya feel me
(If ya feel me) Fuck ’em all day fuck ’em all night
We don’t love these hoes
This goes out to my Brooklyn crew
Put ya guns up in the air if ya feel me
(If ya feel me) Fuck ’em all day fuck ’em all night
We don’t love these hoes
This goes out to my Brooklyn crew
Put ya guns up (in the air) if ya feel me
Fuck ’em all day (fuck ’em all night)
We don’t love these hoes

This goes out… put ya guns up in the air
If ya feel me
Fuck ’em all day, fuck ’em all night
We don’t love these hoes
Yeah!
This goes out (to my Brooklyn crew)