Lifers (feat. Key Glock, Foogiano & Ola Runt)

30, you a motherfuckin' fool, nigga Glock Huh Yeah Huh, yeah, yeah Wop Yeah Yeah, yeah Yeah, yeah Yeah, yeah Yeah Verse 1: Gucci Mane I heard my buddy went out bad, but I'm nothin' like my buddy 'nem Well, damn He went out?sad,?it?made me mad,?now I can't?even fuck with him Wow Them suckers them, what's up with them I buck on them, scuff up them Timbs Petty hustles, predators, pressure them then they crumble them Cripple nigga, shitbag, wheelchairs, I humble them Bullets get to flippin' and fumblin' and tumblin' Gucci Mane, hey let's jump him, nobody jumpin' him No One man, two handguns, that's what you up against My right arm is so-called strong, why is the muscle big From whippin' dope in my long-johns, I made it jump again I don't know where you from, holme, but you best come again Ain't nobody sold more dope than me but Mexicans It's Gucci, Wop Verse 2: Key Glock Haha, ayy, I just broke my thumb again Yeah, I been runnin' up my money, I can't run up out a win Yup, I was runnin' wild, had to hold it down, my mom was in the pen' And I still hold it down too, my mama ain't raise no damn fool Yeah, I'm Big Glock, I do big shit, boy, I ain't nothin' like you I'm flexin' hard with my young black ass and all my cash is blue I pull up in the Rolls or Maybach and I'm just twenty-two They like, How the fuck he get that Shit, I been gettin' to it Trappin' and rappin' and makin' moves, yeah, bitch, I been makin' moves Yeah, stuntin' too hard, I had to play it cool Mama told me them boys ain't cool Glizock and Wizzop a terrible two Yeah, bitch, we a terrible two This watch right here cost a Lam' truck, but Shit, I think I want a Lam' truck too Interlude: Foogiano & Key Glock Shit for real, nigga Nigga ain't play with this one, man Nothin' Fuck you talkin' 'bout Mob Yeah Verse 3: Foogiano More money, more problems I don't give a fuck, I keep a revolver If you got a problem, know I'ma solve 'em Ain't heard 'bout me, then nigga, go search your browser I was posted up on Joe Brown for real We was robbers, we wasn't workin' no deal Smokin' gas, that shit be loud like Malia Niggas talkin', but they know what it is, huh I got them crooked rows Crooked, and I got them shotguns I got them gangster niggas, and they got them big guns I got them OGs, yeah, they ridin' with me, and they gon' kill somethin' And I got them Pirus, bitch, they ain't gon' spare nothin', nah Verse 4: Ola Runt Plug just sent a text, they in Call my country boy, they gone 1017, Ola, we on Sippin' Act', don't do Patron Chain said burr, re-up, make it disappear On that Pimp C, talkin' slurred Pop a Perc', my vision blurry My bitch petite Patek Philippe Hellcat motor in my Jeep Talkin' bars, I charge a fee Took an '05 banger beat