Beef Pt. 2 (Remix) lyrics

[Intro: FWC Big Key]
CashGang Key
What up, Head? What up, Lik?

[Verse 1: Big Key]
Free Mook, yeah, he dropped Boy Woo
You and my strap might be brothers, he a GlockBoy too
"What about Ace?" n*ggas dropped boy too
G died from a Glock, n*gga's not no goon
Woo was playing 2K they upped the blower on his ass
Ace thought he couldn't get beat, they upped the joker on his ass
This beef sh*t really funny, bro was joking when he passed
Can't get who we wanted, put your bro sh*t on the glass
My mans Woo still alive, your mans Woo in a trunk
My mans Ace just got out, your mans Ace in a blunt
Wait 'til summertime catch a n*gga tryna stunt
Hit his ass with shotgun like he was sitting in the front
Still out here on that tip ain't tryna see the joint
Evеrybody want to ride but they don't see the point
Comе through like the Navy, we don't be with Oink
The only time a n*gga scared is if I see the boys

[Verse 2: Lik]
Had to get 'em out of there, you know them baldheads retired
Oh, he said he shot at me? Man, that lil' n*gga a liar
I pull up with some sh*t blowing with more sounds then a choir
b*tch, I always been a shooter, I ain't never been a driver
Stabbing in your b*tch guts, I feel like I'm Michael Myers
I got n*ggas bagging up, but they ain't never worked at Meijer
You n*ggas better tighten, up and I ain't talking 'bout no pliers
When this chopper lighting up, that's another n*gga dying
Don't worry 'bout it, heard that pus*y caught them face shots
Me and Snow just smoked the last opp off a eight of Wock'
Better ask his mans, we had them b*tches ripping through his lot
Better ask her friends, we'll f*ck them hoes and kick 'em out
b*tch, our defense like Kawhi, it ain't no scoring on my n*ggas
Hopped out with the baby Drac' and left his head on his n*ggas
b*tch, I feel like Superman when I'm rolling off them jiggas
You better get your mans before I smoke one of them n*ggas
[Verse 3: 392 Lil Head]
I miss my n*gga V, we used to take hits
Lil Mike don't need no tissue when he take sh*t
Boy, you n*ggas fake pits
Ask Money Meech, his baby mama love to take di*k
I hate midgets, I hate skateboarders, I hate opps
The hoes know it's dog sh*t on me, I ain't pops
YouTube say I killed AJ, I hate cops
I just got face from the b*tch you ate, twat
Y'all some lil' boys I can be 700 dad
700 Glocks, more like 700 fags
I wish Bang was out, he was on 700 ass
Don't give a f*ck if you had 700 mags
We all stepping, we all steppers
My opps sick as f*ck, them n*ggas need a Alka-Seltzer
All them rappers dying, them n*ggas need someone to help 'em
Always in a rush, I done f*cked around and left her