[Intro]
(Enrgy made this one)

[Verse 1: YSR Gramz]
I been stuntin' since a youngin, now I'm Sak Runnin'
When I touch my first M, I'ma tat the Sak Runner
Told lil' bro watch the block, let us know if the 'Cat comin'
Doggy got popped last week, now he back thuggin'
I see you dropped your first chain, n***a, that's nothin'
I'ma ride for my dog like we blood cousins
Told Kidd I got his back 'cause we mud brothers
I'm in Cali, not at home, got some drugs comin'
N***as hard on the 'net, but they love duckin'
Love money, don't love hoes, but I love fuckin'
My n***a like to shoot to kill, he don't love nothin'
My lil' n***a fell in love with pills, he a love junkie
How is you a real n***a, don't give your dogs nothin'?
If I fall off right now, I know my dogs comin'
He got pitbulls for sale, he a dog lovеr
Put a switch on the Glock, they can't take covеr

[Verse 2: Icewear Vezzo]
Yeah, ghetto baby, all my n***as on that hotlist (On that hotlist)
Rich as fuck, still grind like I ain't got shit (For real, n***a)
You got a plain Rollie on, that's a stock wrist (That's a plain jane)
Up that mopstick, n***as opps and still ain't drop shit (Ain't drop nothin')
Buy the load off the plug, we ain't splittin' bags (Nah)
Thirty thousand in my pants, this my tippin' bag (Thirty bands)
Audemars with VVS, spent a brick and half (VVSs)
Trap money, real displayer, twenties trippin' fast (Fast, n***a)
Made a million off of shows, I bought eighty sticks (No cap)
In the club, fuck a party, bitch, we takin' kits (Pussy)
Lil' gang 'nem whackin' shit for an eight of Tris (For an eight)
Heavy bag, dog too strong, it ain't takin' fent' (Woo)
I ain't beefin' with no rapper, I got real money (I got real paper)
Slide in Hutch, fuck around and spend your deal money (Hah)
Pour a pint of Quagen up, snatch the seal off it
Dead presidents in my safe, that's a real coffin (That's a real coffin)
Richest n***a that my neighborhood done ever seen (Facts)
New Rolls-Royce, crack the Forgios on Evergreen (Shit)
Burnt out off the mud, pour the red in threes (Threes)
Had more cheese than they havin' now when I was sellin' lean (N***as ever seen)
You want the jewelry that I got, you gotta get a bag (Gotta run it up)
We came up from that old boy just like Killa Cam (Oh, that dog food)
Yeah, twenty-sixes on the Track', look like I'm in a Ram
Froze wrist, count up dog shit with my n***a Gramz, bitch (What it look like?)
[Verse 3: YSR Gramz]
He don't know if he gon' shoot, is he cut or not?
Oh, that's only a twenty-ball, n***a, cut it out
Send a hundred at they crib, now they runnin' out
They was beefin' last year, now they brothers now
I don't like my n***as in the club, they be buggin' out
Bro was fucked up last year, he get money now
We got twenty 'bows in this crib, get off Clubhouse
He dropped out of school, he sixteen, he got a dub now
I know n***as that drop shit, make me call 'em up
I'll put my gun down, you get knotted up
Got into it with my pockets, now they knotted up
I see you posting lil' money, that's just not enough
Hit his ass with a fifty, he can't get back up
If I ever fall off, I'ma get back up
I don't give a fuck what gun it is long as that bitch bust
I don't like to hang with n***as that be actin' tough
I had to give my son a whoopin', he was actin' up
We them n***as that started everything, these n***as act like us