Mob sh*t lyrics

[Intro]
(RJBaNKS on the beat) Can't get down with the mob (Ah, yeah)
I had to let that .40, "Glah," extendo pop, pew (Ayy), n*gga
Mm, can't get down with the gang (Yeah), make that .40 bang (We Extendo Gang)
Fah, glaow, ayy, yeah, ayy, mm
It's—, yah (Fah, fah, fah), ayy, glaow, baow, yeah (Yeah), hmm-hmm, ayy (Gang sh*t)
Ayy, ayy, f*ck n*gga (b*tch), ayy, ayy, gang sh*t
Ayy, ayy, mob sh*t, mm

[Chorus]
n*gga, we ain't cool, you can't get down with the mob
Where the f*ck you was when I was outchea tryna rob, n*gga?
Where the f*ck you was when we had shootouts with the opps? Hmm (We had shootouts, glaow, baow)
Thought this sh*t was sweet, I had to let that .40 pop (I had to let that .40 go)
I'm sliding with a bisexual gun up in the coupe (Ayy, ayy, why?)
'Cause this b*tch'll blow at n*ggas, b*tches, too
And they said a young n*gga couldn't get thеse racks, I'm living proof
And Criss Angel money, I drop that bag, you gon' go poof, yеah (Ayy, yeah, he gone)

[Verse]
Make a n*gga body shake with this FN, ayy (Hoo, glaow)
I put thirty on my Glock like I'm Stephen, ayy (Ayy, come on, man)
Y'all must use the elevator 'cause y'all ain't steppin', ayy (Ayy, on God, n*gga)
Young n*gga hot, booth catch on fire every time I step in, ayy (Hoo, hoo)
Blue tips and blue strips (Huh?)
Can't do no dirt with n*ggas (Ayy), all y'all got loose lips
Hey, f*ck lil' shawty good (Hoo), now she got loose hips
Hit your block, you better duck like it's a f*cking goose here, n*gga (Glaow, ayy, glaow, ayy, glaow, yeah)
Three-five in my 'Wood, I don't play for the Nets, huh
I was skippin' school (Ayy), you was teacher's pet, n*gga
K5 in the cut, he tryna find some sh*t to stretch, ayy
Shawty ride the di*k just like a bike, she know I'm next, yeah
[Chorus]
n*gga, we ain't cool, you can't get down with the mob
Where the f*ck you was when I was outchea tryna rob, n*gga?
Where the f*ck you was when we had shootouts with the opps? Hmm (We had shootouts, glaow, baow)
Thought this sh*t was sweet, I had to let that .40 pop (I had to let that .40 go)
I'm sliding with a bisexual gun up in the coupe (Ayy, ayy, why?)
'Cause this b*tch'll blow at n*ggas, b*tches, too
And they said a young n*gga couldn't get these racks, I'm living proof
And Criss Angel money, I drop that bag, you gon' go poof, yeah (Ayy, yeah, he gone)