[Chorus: Don Q]
In this little thing of ours, swear this shit is more than music
I be in the stu' for hours tryna put my all into it
Kick the door and bring the team in, that's how you supposed to do it
Success just brings you more stress, I still be going through it
Even though it ain't no love lost, I took the gloves off
I could rap flashy but the streets want that mud talk
Tryna find out them drugs cost and knock the plug off
Close range, stains on the snub, gotta wipe the blood off

[Verse 1: Don Q]
It get devastating, tell Satan I'm already waiting
With my flame and I ain't scared to bring it right to hell and face him
Asked me why I go hard and the money was my explanation
Still riding dirty with my 30, ain't no registration
That's why I got a check for agents once I rеach my destination
He caught a case, knеw he was telling once he left the station
Even when my head is racing, I focus on that bread and chase it
You broke cause you kept complaining, it's all about preparation
Every line on point like an exclamation
He get that 9 and he point with no hesitation
I seen shootouts in the park, that was recreation
They was best friends but that jealousy caused separation

[Chorus: Don Q]
In this little thing of ours, swear this shit is more than music
I be in the stu' for hours tryna put my all into it
Kick the door and bring the team in, that's how you supposed to do it
Success just brings you more stress, I still be going through it
Even though it ain't no love lost, I took the gloves off
I could rap flashy but the streets want that mud talk
Tryna find out them drugs cost and knock the plug off
Close range, stains on the snub, gotta wipe the blood off
[Verse 2: G Herbo]
I was in the hood with my SIG
Never faced a bid cause I'm good at what I did
Like a beautician, seen a n***a wig split
Forgive me for my sins, God, I was just a kid, shit
I'm a man, God, pull up in that Benz, God
I'm just tryna win, God, split it with my friends, God
Envy, hatred, I can peep it through my lens
This the type of paper have you beefin' with your mans
Blemishes and street shit, it was streaking up my brand
Conversations with the Reaper, it was leaking through my pen
Talk in the streets hurt us, language from that burner
Only talking through them burners, practice murder, and I'll murder, n***a

[Chorus: Don Q]
In this little thing of ours, swear this shit is more than music
I be in the stu' for hours tryna put my all into it
Kick the door and bring the team in, that's how you supposed to do it
Success just brings you more stress, I still be going through it
Even though it ain't no love lost, I took the gloves off
I could rap flashy but the streets want that mud talk
Tryna find out them drugs cost and knock the plug off
Close range, stains on the snub, gotta wipe the blood off