Yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah
I can get you tagged
I'll chop your body up, divide up in separate plastic bags
Like Sauce, I Walk it, b*tch, no talking, b*tch
I just go get the bag
You know your time is up, I'm grimy, bruh, I can't show you my hand
You know I'm what you not, you cap a lot, but you think you the man
I pull the mower out, I'll chop your grass, little ni**a, that's yo ass
Yeah, it's Killa Season, hoodies up, yeah, I'ma do 'em bad
Can't play no games, I rearrange your face like "who the fu*k is that"
Don't think that you gon' up the score on me, b*tch, I'ma get you back
They wasn't fu*kin' with me, now they on my dick, yeah
I'm bringing home the bacon, but it's fu*k the pigs, yeah
All thеse ni**as is pretend, thеy ain't genuine, yeah
Roll up a twinny-twin-twin, yeah, I'm in the wind, yeah
Type of ni**a fill the stands out, I bring the bands out
I can't kick it with no ni**a always got his hand out
I can't help it that you blew it, that's just how it panned out
Get it hot and bring the fans out
I'm-I'm-I'm on my sh*t, yeah
Started off with nothing, now I'm going big, yeah
I been could see the future since I was a kid, yeah
I know that lil ni**a proud of what I did, yeah
My lady kill you for me, she my Harley Quinn, yeah
I can't take no more losses, so I gotta win, yeah
You ain't come from my mama, don't say you my twin, yeah
I been dove in that water, I know how to swim, yeah
You say it's up, it's up, don't give no fu*k, 'cause
I can get you tagged
I'll chop your body up, divide up in separate plastic bags
Like Sauce, I Walk it, b*tch, no talking, b*tch
I just go get the bag
You know your time is up, I'm grimy, bruh, I can't show you my hand
You know I'm what you not, you cap a lot, but you think you the man
I pull the mower out, I'll chop your grass, little ni**a, that's yo ass
Yeah, it's Killa Season, hoodies up, yeah, I'ma do 'em bad
Can't play no games, I rearrange your face like "who the fu*k is that"
Don't think that you gon' up the score on me, b*tch, I'ma get you back