Peekaboo lyrics

[Intro]
Fah, fah, fah, fah
My mask on, my dreads long, gang in this b*tch
(This sh*t number one)
b*tch, we slinging in this sh*t
My mask on, my dreads, huh

[Verse]
Peekaboo, pop out them bushes, frrah, while he wasn't looking
Hit the corner, he was tryna book it, b*tch, these came with extra bullets
Fifty shots, a hundred shots, come out that crib 'cause we gon cook 'em
b*tch, don't want your mask, if we don't catch him, kill his cousin (Yeah)
At the red light, seen 'em pull up at the stop
Hit the gas, skrrt by the left, we 'bout to the knock the engines out
Think we ain't see him through them tints, certain sh*t you just gon' say for clout
Start hittin' that car like frrah, frrah, frrah, what's all that dissing 'bout?
Uh, I see so much dead peoplе, this sh*t gon' make me mad
I know it's sad to say, but, uh, my own b*tch gon' make mе glad
This b*tch always wanna play with me, man, this b*tch gon' make me crash
I pull up sliding in a, uh, I'm in the Trackhawk, making me spazz (Yeah)
They keep wolfing on the net 'til they see us
They keep bragging 'bout they dead homie, b*tch, go pick him up
If you ain't gon' try him, go at him some
b*tch, you ain't getting up in this trunk
We SRT it when we speeding
b*tch, I don't keep my hammer tucked
My [?] ring bells, that's dangerous, I don't need no gang to hang him up
This chop stick hold like a hundred, you come through here, we switch it up
I keep my mask up, my dreads long, b*tch, come and test your luck
Bro just caught one the drink, he ain't even have his gun
Sixteen shots up in this Drac', we catch a opp, we having fun
Bro just caught one by the lake, he couldn't hit him, hit his son (Boom, boom)
He tried to run, sh*t caught a lung, I tell 'em doctors, "Stitch him up"
I'm in your city while my VVS chains on, blick it up
I stand over all my opps with my lil' shovel, I'm tryna dig 'em
Ain't no rules out in this b*tch, you either dead or you in the system
Take my money out of my pockets for my hitters
Put that bag up on his head, I bet they eating this fool for dinner
[Bridge]
b*tch, you could run, Ricky, run
But, b*tch, we got your picture
Had them shooters up in them pistols
I'll have the shooters link with your sister
Don't run, have the boogeyman come and get you
It's a bag, it was ain't no switches
Runnin' eight-three hundred without no label without these f*ck n*ggas in my picture

[Outro]
b*tch
Runnin' eight-three hundred without no label without these f*ck n*ggas in my picture, b*tch
Hundred without no label without these f*ck n*ggas in my picture