Steppers lyrics

[Intro: Tee Grizzley & Skilla Baby]
You be talkin' 'bout me to the n*ggas run with you
Then see me out and di*k suck and now them boys uncomfortable
Now all the real steppers up your blick in this b*tch
Every n*gga I don't like gettin' stripped in this b*tch
Huh?
Ayy (Helluva made this beat, baby)
Hmm

[Chorus: Skilla Baby]
Now all the real steppers up your blick in this b*tch
I hope a b*tch n*gga get pistol-whipped to this sh*t
Every n*gga I don't like gettin' stripped in this b*tch
Any sudden move, boy, you gettin' hit with this blick, b*tch
Every n*gga in here jack sh*t and take hits
My lil' n*gga whack sh*t, he don't wanna take pics
If you wanna beat that body, then you better hirе Blake, jit
My lil' n*ggas bake sh*t, you bettеr send that pape', b*tch

[Verse 1: Skilla Baby]
Every n*gga in here with me clique and catch bodies
If I tell 'em I don't like you, then you gettin' stretched probably
Simple math, subtract n*ggas, it ain't sh*t to solve a problem
And if you hidin' and I want you, I'm puttin' this sh*t on your mama
And if you wanna be around the gang, catch a body, n*gga
Hop up in that striker with me, we them young n*ggas 'round the city
Catch him out and hit him, kill everything with him
Oh, they p*ssed? Have my lil' n*gga sic 'em
No kizzy, every time I go slide, my lil' n*ggas go with me
We be huntin' sh*t, hop out, bustin' sh*t around the city
I get busy, I can't let a n*gga trick me, this sh*t tricky
I don't want no borin' gun, I want a fully or a switchy, b*tch, I'm picky
[Chorus: Skilla Baby & Tee Grizzley]
Now all the real steppers up your blick in this b*tch
I hope a b*tch n*gga get pistol-whipped to this sh*t
Every n*gga I don't like gettin' stripped in this b*tch
Any sudden move, boy, you gettin' hit with this blick, b*tch
Every n*gga in here jack sh*t and take hits
My lil' n*gga whack sh*t, he don't wanna take pics
If you wanna beat that body, then you better hire Blake, jit
My lil' n*ggas bake sh*t, you better send that pape', b*tch (Oh, yeah)

[Verse 2: Tee Grizzley & Skilla Baby]
Ayy, Glocks in the air, Glocks in the air (Talkin' 'bout 9s, 40s, four-fives, put them b*tches in the air)
Shots at his hair, we don't send shots in the air (Bah, bah)
Chops in the air, chops in the air (AKs, Dracs, n*gga, ARPs, n*gga, what up?)
Try to box in this b*tch and get you boxed like some squares (Bah)
Got money, but they b*tches, catch 'em slippin', take that Rollie off (Give me that)
He been talkin' crazy, but he hidin', what his homie cost? (Okay)
b*tch, we from the D, we don't say taco, duck your Coney dog (Bah)
Thought he was a demon, Skilla nailed him to the holy cross (pus*y-ass)
My n*ggas be on street sh*t (Yeah), headshot, sleep quick (Yeah)
Cook up all the beef sh*t (Yeah), crime in the D sh*t (Oh, yeah)
These n*ggas really dumb enough to go against some millionaires (Okay)
I'm talkin' they catch you in Somerset and they gon' kill you there (Brr, huh?)

[Chorus: Skilla Baby]
Now all the real steppers up your blick in this b*tch
I hope a b*tch n*gga get pistol-whipped to this sh*t
Every n*gga I don't like gettin' stripped in this b*tch
Any sudden move, boy, you gettin' hit with this blick, b*tch
Every n*gga in here jack sh*t and take hits
My lil' n*gga whack sh*t, he don't wanna take pics
If you wanna beat that body, then you better hire Blake, jit
My lil' n*ggas bake sh*t, you better send that pape', b*tch
[Outro: Tee Grizzley]
b*tch, we from the D, we don't say taco, duck your Coney dog