Dirty Stick lyrics

[Intro: Goonew]
Cha, cha, Goonrich
Cha, Homicide
Gang, Goonrich
Ridin' 'round in that Kompressor with my lil bro Good Intent, aye
What, what, what

[Verse 1: Goonew]
Pull on the block with a dirty stick
Junkies, they comin' so I'm beatin' my wrist
f*ck on that ho and she suck the whole clique
[?] blue tips, yeah, I shoot the whole clique
Shootin' that Draco with two hands, b*tch
Dunkin' too much, had to f*ck up my wrist
Ride in the foreign, you know that it's tinted
I'm servin' my auntie, she makin' me dinner (hey, auntie)
Percs comin' in and I'm f*ckin' a dentist
Live in the trap and I sleep in the kitchen
Still on the block with that 30 extension
b*tch I'm with lou [?],but he takin' your [?]
Homicide gang comin' through with the fit
I got [?], flood out the dope in the kitchen
Double back gang, hit him up if I'm missin'
I got the best [?], you can flow, you can dig it
Switch it up, cook, they was stealin' my swag
Hatin' ass n*gga tryna eat up the dab
Hundred round drum, I ain't goin' out sad
OG, boy, told me how to beat up the pot
I'm f*ckin' this b*tch and I'm smackin' her around
I'm Goonrich, b*tch, and, I stay with the cash
f*ck up this beat 'cause I got the best swag
Come in the trap, you can get you the bag
I ain't from Atlanta, but I dip and I dab
I f*ck on a ho and I'm robbin' her dad
I'm sippin' on Tech, you sippin' on swag
If you want smoke, make a left on the ave
I come in the club and I'm throwin' them bands
He wanted an ounce, but I gave him a half
I come in the trap and I'm doin' my dab
Homicide gang comin' through with the mag
[Verse 2: Lil Yachty]
Million dollar kid, totin' hollow tips
Chopper bust, sound like an adlib
Made the b*tch slob, need a baby bib
Five cars parked at the new crib
New whip brown like a baby back smoked rib
Hit a b*tch, put her in the Uber, that's a roadkill
Coupe on 4 wheels, b*tch off 4 pills
Iced out new grill

[Verse 3: Lil Dude]
Uh, me and Jay Brown in the big wheel
Spendin' the band on your block, it's a fish tail
b*tch, I'll still do the windmill
I don't f*ck with 12, man, I don't eat pig tails
Homicide Boys, leave the sh*t on your windsheild
Hop out the cut, Hoodrich got big steel
Luciano smoke, I ain't here
Post in the trenches with my n*ggas all night for real

[Verse 4: Jay Brown]
You ain't talkin' money, shut the f*ck up
I done fell in love with my b*tch 'cause she stuck up, yeah
Nina Ross with me, gotta tuck up
In the trap with the bag, tryna get my bucks up, yeah
4 ounces, gotta pour my Crush up
Money talk, b*tch ass n*gga need to hush up, yeah
Lil n*gga got a n*gga shook up
Lookin' for the kid, I advise you to look up, yeah
It ain't no limit on money we spendin' daily, Master P got the hook up, yeah
We in the trap with some butt naked b*tches and them b*tches know how to cook up, b*tch