dont fuck wit the boyz in red

where you kill em easy sit em in the river leave em they find em tomorrow evenin sinkin I’m prolly drinkin that
Syrup thinkin I won’t slip even tho I’m leanin like a broke hip. he ain’t know I got the nina with the full clip that’s a sommersault, backspin full flip for
Ya. push this button I’ll flip out and hit sumthin miss nuthin I’m just bustin until the scene clean. twelve hundred for the jeans stop playin a hundred
Dollars for the glock in my pants who the man I am when I stand with it pointed right at your face knock your brains from the back of your neck for lack
Of respect I strap a jet black gat to the death tell my momma to bury me with that no bullshit my hood gettin kinda crazy where I be so diemen’s with me
Cause she’s the O.G.
22 year old 17 war vet life in the fast lane little red corvette little red handkerchief hangin out the right side back pocket jeans fallin
yep we do shine and they gon hate but they hated G’s is baby we won’t break
So we ride like four perrelli’s so s-cary no security, no protectin, no conparin lokin heavy, Oceans 11, aviators, both taker, so fakers, no players I’m
Hollygrove to the heart hollygrove from the start don’t cross airheart boluvard or the war I come from 1-7 one shot never that blum, blum, blrrr, blrrr,
Pop, pop, clap, clap what the fuck hollygrove stand up nigga duck.
Fresh out the backseat of the figgity Phantom the hater I make em madder when I wave at em like "what up" if it ain’t bout money I keep goin
I’m tryin to get that green I’m tryin to mow my lawn but fuck. dem boyz (?) shoty on my armor dem boyz run up I leave they bodies on the lawn and duck the
Fuck outta there cause baby it’s hotter there if this was a movie it’s time to roll the credits "CUT" it’s all over all of your brains are all over the
Mother fuckin block I’m a mother fuckin rock hard body woodland blvd 17 shots night vision double clip hot steady beam glock pop, drop little man drop this
Is not for little bitches your man all I’m layin in the drop thinkin of more money, 
Hahaha, yeah, lock & load, ya know, I thought they knew it was really real daddy, yeah, homeboy, my mother fuckin wristband was 300
Dollars no lie, Dolce & Gabbana, they should pay me for sayin that shit, so is my jeans they wasn’t 300 but they Dolce too, yeah, we won mother fucker, we
Winnin over here, that’s right, hey, somebody call da haters tell them pull up front open the doors suicide, let’s ride out, you got money you know what the
Fuck I’m talkin bout, if ya don’t, keep thinkin, if you can do that, your losin streak is goin up, why?, cause we here straight up....in words of wayne fuck wit it niggas!