(TWEAKIN FREESTYLE) lyrics

[Verse 1: Sinclair]
Serving keys state to state 'cause I need dough
You already know a n*gga used to kick doors
Got the activist, you already know I poured a four
If I'm in the [?], you better watch your ho
I'm in this b*tch getting rich with my clique though
I'm in this b*tch getting rich with my clique though
Got the .30 on me, yes, that be the clip though
Mr. Big Bullets, I'll shoot and I don't miss though
Big bullets and they looking like missiles
You already know me and my n*ggas, we the sh*t though
Big blue hunnids, nah, I don't bang Crip though
Call me Steve Nash, the way I pipe and I assist hoes
Never felt love, hell nah, I don't miss hoes
f*ck a bunch of b*tches, hell nah, I don't kiss hoes
n*ggas talking down to me, the pistol start to rip close
I ain't wanna have to do it but he stay talking sh*t though

[Verse 2: Lil Tracy]
Air Forces tied up, boy, I run it up
Yeah, I'm eating so good, I'm finna get a gut
Money on the floor, you know that we pick it up
We hit a big lick, you know that we split it up
Why the f*ck this n*gga looking at me so weird?
Pull up and we hunt his ass like a deer
b*tches tell me I look good, I don't need a mirror
Xan got me f*cked up, I can't even steer
I'm with the bros, smoking loud, we can't even hear
So all the f*ck sh*t you talking, we can't even hear it
Pouring expensive champagne, we don't sip beer
RIP my cousin Tai, I'ma see you there
Finna get a big crib with a chandelier
Ten toes on the ground, what the f*ck is fear?
Finna go on tour, see me popping out the lair
Popping out the lair, all these lil' b*tches staring
All these hoes wanna f*ck, I don't even care
I need a gothic ass b*tch with some blue hair
Yeah, hit it from the back, pulling on her hair
I don't love the b*tch though, pass her ass to Sinclair
[Verse 3: Sinclair]
Let's get it
[?] jeans, heard about twenty beans
I bend the corner, skrrt-skrrt, yeah, I'm serving fiends
I got a bad b*tch, the .40 and she hold the bean
Ain't gotta pop, n*gga, bet nobody gon' scream
Headshot, .38, special on my hip
Bad b*tch, f*ck her ass then she gotta dip
Me and my n*ggas in this b*tch, yeah, we getting rich
Call us Spy Kids, the way n*ggas hitting licks
Better yet, call me Chapo, how I move these bricks
Moving like Rambo when I got the stick
Don't test the gang, everybody with the sh*t
My gang 51-50, they'll whack a b*tch

[Verse 4: Lil Tracy]
Man, these n*ggas so thirsty, they need a water bottle
He want beef, dropped out of school but we gon' solve the problem
And that stick leave him wet like he took a shower
Got a white lil' b*tch and she off the powder
My team balling, we should be on 2K though
I want the neck, I can't take you on no date, ho
I'm a di*khead, I'm rude, I'm a a-hole
Ksubi jeans, Gosha shirt, this just play clothes, b*tch