Really Bout lyrics

[Verse 1]
Who y'all n*ggas? I don't know, ian see y'all
Slide Music, slide the doors and ian see y'all
Hol’ b*tch you tippin' where y'all n*ggas at
All black fit walkin’ outside got a stick to match
Drag a b*tch outta my house, you can find her where them extensions at
Big Plug n*gga hit the work off like a tennis rack
n*gga f*ck politics my grandmother a democrat
Muzzle flash to his face, n*gga this ain't a photograph
n*gga f*ck school all I use to use is PhotoMath
n*gga wrote a statement then the next day we gon' smoke his ass
I'm foulin’ the plug, tackle sh*t don't need a shoulder pad
I heard cuz was hot lil n*gga need to roll in grass (bah)
Where his face at lil n*gga gave him two bucks
n*ggas sweet as sh*t, bet his heart pumping fruit punch
Swear to god I was in jail, this me n*gga, who lunch?
Catch a n*gga at the light, stick in my hand, do something
It ain't pressure n*gga
Bet I put the stick down me and Kaydoo still reckin’ n*gga
Hit a n*gga in his sh*t break his jaw like a record n*gga
Call my shooters in designer they might shoot you in a Tesla n*gga
Use the strong arm on the plug I got the stick ian a wrestler n*gga
Think imma rapper? Imma show you what i'm really bout (huh?)
This a true story just hear me out! (Brrr)
Me and Kaydoo one time ran into his sister house
Can't tell you everything, some parts, so imma pick it out
So many words we pulled a move to get some firearms
Tryna get P’s delivered to us like its Papa John’s
The chopper singing was inside it sound like Chaka Khan
Free all my n*ggas in the cell they couldn’t get a bond
Feds tryna find a stick nobody post’ to be here
Cold felony charge they could’ve gave me 23 years
Michael Jackson with the chop you call me I will be there
Run up on the plug with the Drake I told him Take Care
Backdoor the plug, n*gga money over everything
My soldier get to steppin’ on n*ggas like I'm Major Payne
Eleven in the clip n*ggas think i'm seeing Stranger Things
n*ggas wanna clout chase i'm gon’ shoot you ian gon’ take your chain
f*cking his b*tch she just asked me to buy 4 locks
You talking bout a stick stop holding your bro Glock
300 in the clip they thinking i'm from O Block
I'm hitting on his b*tch while i'm watching soap operas
f*ck a handgun I hop out shooting both choppers
My migo plug ask me do I want a Horchata
I f*ck his mother now he thinking i'm the step-father
These n*ggas running from the bullets make your death harder (brrr)
[outro]:
Imma show you what i'm really bout, imma show you what i'm really bout get wimme n*gga, brrr, what i'm really bout, imma crash out again n*gga, I'm the most humble n*gga in the world n*gga but dont get sh*t f*cked up but dont take kindness for weakness n*gga, hey