[Intro]
Woo, GloRilla
N***a talkin' 'bout puttin' his motherfuckin' hands on me
He can bet I put his hands on his dick
And play with that and some motherfuckin' jerseys, n***a
What the fuck?
On the gang, gang

[Chorus]
I ain't goin' for all that ruff me up and grab me by the neck (No)
N***a put his hands on me, we gon' be smokin' on him next
N***a don't even want me to walk outside, he know that I'm a threat (Huh)
Think that boy obsessed (Uh), just to get back to this text (Hey)
N***a text my phone, talkin' 'bout he gon' put his hands on me
N***a, I ain't goin' for that shit, nah, nah, I'ma die 'bout my respect
Keep that n***a checked (Woo), and I got a check (Woo)
Okay, you 'bout that bread (Woo), put it on your head (On the gang)

[Verse 1]
We gon' find my brother, n***a, must ain't know I was jackin' (The fuck?)
But fuck that shit, he gon' be in the sky next time it happen
Go and pick him out a casket (Yeah), put him on the casket (Woo)
This Glock twenty-three make him sing, don't think that I'm just rappin'
Tappin' in, shoot, rappin', make him dance like Michael Jackson (Okay)
These n***as get mad and throw a bitch fifty, n***as sassy (Ugh)
I'm tellin' you now, this ain't the smoke you want, you better pass it
N***a blowin' my phone down, 'cause he seen me out in Cali'
Poppin' shit, like I ain't got taxes, catch up, you slow like molasses
Talkin' 'bout you gon' put your hands on who? Your son gon' be a bastard (On God)
Cuz' gon' kill you for free, imagine what he'll do for that gaff (Huh?)
Ain't even got to call nobody, I'll beat your ass like I'm your master
[Chorus]
I ain't goin' for all that ruff me up and grab me by the neck (No)
N***a put his hands on me, we gon' be smokin' on him next
N***a don't even want me to walk outside, he know that I'm a threat (Huh)
Think that boy obsessed (Uh), just to get back to this text (Hey)
N***a text my phone, talkin' 'bout he gon' put his hands on me
N***a, I ain't goin' for that shit, nah, nah, I'ma die 'bout my respect
Keep that n***a checked (Woo), and I got a check (Woo)
Okay, you 'bout that bread (Woo), put it on your head (On the gang)

[Verse 2]
Big Glo I'm the [?] (Hey), I'm finna do mine bigger (Uh)
N***a swing on me, gon' up the ceilin' with this one (Stamp that)
Put you with your deadass homies, since you say you miss 'em (Fuck)
Can't pay Rambo to take his mask off, he like little pistols
Gangster bitch, this a pole I got on, me, it ain't for strippin'
Try to hit me, I'ma show your bitch ass you ain't no hitter
Quick to hit a ho', but I ain't gon' do shit to them n***as (Bitch-ass)
Them face tattoos don't scare me, I grew up 'round real killers, on the gang

[Chorus]
I ain't goin' for all that ruff me up and grab me by the neck (No)
N***a put his hands on me, we gon' be smokin' on him next
N***a don't even want me to walk outside, he know that I'm a threat (Huh)
Think that boy obsessed (Uh), just to get back to this text (Hey)
N***a text my phone, talkin' 'bout he gon' put his hands on me
N***a, I ain't goin' for that shit, nah, nah, I'ma die 'bout my respect
Keep that n***a checked (Woo), and I got a check (Woo)
Okay, you 'bout that bread (Woo), put it on your head (On the gang)
[Outro]
Huh, huh, huh, huh
Bitch-ass n***a
Gon' meet they motherfuckin' maker runnin' into me
Ho-'ass, n***a, this ain't that
Fuck wrong with you?
Bitch-ass n***a
Huh, huh