[OTM Frenchyy]
GGGRRRRRRRRR!! IT'S THAT OTM sh*t, f*ck n*ggA, TRAPP
AYEE RUGER
[OTM Ruger]
Waddup b*tch
[OTM Frenchyy]
Man these f*ck n*gga's sleeping on'em
[OTM Ruger]
f*ck them n*gga's
[OTM Frenchyy]
So we finna wake these f*ck n*gga's up
[OTM Ruger]
Aye
When I first jumped off the porch i was like 12
Them crackas heard bout' Lil Ruger hopped right on my trail
They say I'm outchea' and i'm thuggin' and i'm causing hell
I'm head first like a turtle coming out the shell
In Bethel Heights, OTM that's where i hang n*gga
Where older n*gga's that be posted selling cane n*gga
Where young n*gga's that be clutching on them things n*gga
You slide through on that f*ck sh*t we up and flame n*gga
Young n*gga since a jit thuggin' in the bricks
Got on my di*k, Grab a stick, Got to hit a lick
Hurt as a jit, Trynna diss but know he a b*tch
I make him p*ss, Put that 40 all up in his sh*t
I'mma go and make a n*gga do the running man
They don't know that OTM just seen a hunnit bands
I swear to god on my momma it was a hunnit grand
My n*gga Will told me chill i got the perfect plan
We ran it up, We banned up, Now we on the top
I'm on probation but i still keep a 40 Glock
These n*gga's think they poppin' molly but it's really flock
I know some buddies that will wack you bout' a couple rocks
They talkin' down bout' Lil Ruger get your ass flipped
They talkin' down bout' Lil Frenchyy get you ass killed
That thug sh*t stop pretending that ain't how you built
Go in your sh*t when i see you n*gga off the rip
Hit rock bottom i don't need a b*tch to pick me up
I'm still outchea' head first chasin' after them bucks
And every where a n*gga go it's shooters in the cut
I got a di*k on a Glock it's bout' to buss a nut
(f*ck n*gga, di*k on a 40, Stop playin' n*gga, We apply pressure on these f*ck n*gga's, Trap, Trap, Trap)
[OTM Frenchyy]
Started rapping when i was a jit, Snappin' like a b*tch
Came straight up out them f*cking bricks, A b*tch couldn't tell me sh*t
My daddy he hustling, He was working like a b*tch
He knew how to make a hundred dollars out of 50 cent
I won't stop till my heart stop beating down the block
[?]
We don't talk, We let pistols talk, Put'em in your mouth
Got some young n*gga's in ya bushes right outside your house
Call up Pappy he gone just finesse run'em up a check
f*ck a vest, We don't shoot for chest we aiming at your neck
Money long b*tch we make it stretch like a retarded check
Want the Money, Power, and Respect, f*ck whatever left
Pending charges got my n*gga stressed they can't even flex
Plugged in like Khaled f*ck n*gga we the best
Buddy calling for the whole 2 that's 10 hundred
Private room full of bad b*tches gettin' blunted
f*cked up his b*tch walk like her shoes to tight
Damn near tried to break the b*tch legs last night
You ain't never had a young n*gga rush your b*tch
Snatch her up, Bend her over straight f*ck your b*tch
All them in direct post gone have me at your sh*t
Waiting for your soft ass to come up out that sh*t
All that Facebook rapping leave that sh*t for the hoes
Talking bout' a lot of sh*t that you ain't really on
I was raised in the gutter where a lot of n*gga's died at
Posted on the ugly where you got to keep your 9 at
YOU MUST NOT KNOW BOUT' ME
I got some young n*gga's will take your cheese
Swervin' hard on the interstate, Them crackas coming
Crackas trynna slow a n*gga up, I'm getting money
No love for a petty b*tch, I can't trust'em
On the block thuggin' late night like its nothing b*tch!!