This the 7-1-3 motherfuckin' Don T
Ayy, this your boy, Cardo, man
Me and Keem just touched down in H-Town
Know what I'm talkin' 'bout?
Ayy, man, come pick us up in one of 'em slayers
You know what I'm sayin'?
One of 'em shits with the elbows hangin' out
Ayy, tap in
♪
I say what's up man? It's Booman, I'm back again
Let your friends know, can you braid my hair like Iverson's?
I'm just playin', whoa, I got movie ho, top actress on the channel
Most of my hoes know how to play the piano
Bitch, I'm movin' stealth, just ask yourself, have you seen me?
"He got two hoes, oh shit, he's Baby Keem"
You went too long, and you know it's time to see me
In and out the state, yeah, this shit up for take, yeah
You mistreat the ho, make her feel out of place, yeah
That's a big mistake, I cannot relate, huh
Me and my girl movin' at a pace, hmm
If that shit movin' too fast, I hit the brakes
I say, "What's up, ho?" It's boolin', I'm back again
Tell your friend, ho, I can see the money through the lens
I'm just sayin', though
No more baby really top ten, used to hop out the Benz
Cover that cash 'til the thought I spin (Uh-huh)
'82 Rolls (yeah-yeah), '21 wings (yeah-yeah)
I'ma let you go in peace, but I see it how it seem
Baby, keep on callin', how it controllin' me
But I workin' in a line, only way to try
I cannot decide, middle of July
Oh, oh-oh
Oh-yeah, yeah-yeah
Ooh-ooh
Ooh
Ten toes down, and I'm schemin' and shit
Eviction notice, lil' bih, get off my penis and shit, yeah
I'm the type to talk about my demons and shit
Tennis chains on, feelin' like Serena and shit
I got stripes, I got rank
I want run down on a opp, I caught a flame (flame)
Nigga, I caught that chopper
Nigga, now, I'm shootin', nah, these ain't blanks (gah-gah-gah)
I been movin' in silence (yeah), I'm known to keep it private
I condone the violence (yeah), pray with me
I'm still not dead, I'm spinnin' for ya
(Still not dead, I'm spinnin' for ya)
When I want you back, but I can't employ ya
(Want you back, yeah)
Gotta keep that strap like a militant soldier
(Gotta keep that strap with a militant)
And you smokin' that dope, right there, I sold ya
I thought I told ya (ooh-ooh)
I gotta run through the fire, I need a ho like Mariah
I wanna swerve with the tire, I make the family retire
I gotta see the hope, be the way
I gotta feed the folks where I lay
I gotta show the light to the weak
Dodgin' the fake woke in L.A.