[ScHoolboy Q] Hold and shoot till he drop We'll be waiting for you around the corner, nigga
Only twelve and a half, and already ducking them jabs Fighting back, just hoping that he last, he on his ass Huffing and puffing, getting tagged See what this nigga feel would only make them niggas laugh He felt the discomfort, didn't trust him right away Saw the Devil in they eyes, his homie looking straight But something was different in him, not the same from yesterday Shit, his whole demeanor changed, even his smile was strange, his childhood never came But dude was always gutter, he got it from his brother From his brother, from his brother, brought pain onto his mother Once was elementary homies, but now we attack each other Shit, set love aside, tuck his pride, shit, he had to ride Threw on his hood and then he fired, fired and fired Fired and fired, the tires screech Spirit up out of reach A young nigga swallowing yeast, trapped in the belly of the beast, sheesh
[Chorus 2X] I know niggas that kill niggas, that kill niggas that kill niggas, that kill niggas The cycle continues The cycle continues (kill nigga, kill nigga)
[ScHoolboy Q] He only seventeen, his homies was his motive He only seventeen, his mama never noticed Too busy paying bills, tryna provide a meal Pay the rent and steal, her child live for a thrill Fulfill his niggas' wishes, no more hugs or kisses No more 'how you been?', no more tucking in He with them other men, poppa never came So his cousin then would pretend, imitating if they was him Got the pistol on him loaded, loaded off of gin Feels like niggas on him, so he look for them First nigga wrong, hack! Blam blam to him Paranoia kills, kill or be killed Let alone all them thugs, let alone all them drugs Treat is kinda like a bud, let's see how karma does Let's see how much he loves shoot 'em up, shoot 'em up, bam, bam
[Chorus 2X]
[ScHoolboy Q] This nigga twenty-one, he feel like he the man This nigga twenty-one, his mom said be a man Love to sag his pants, pistol in his hand Feel he too advanced, him slipping out his chance Think he at his best, he hit the set, he making orders Got them lil' niggas busting shots and flipping quarters An ounce a half, double up, shit, what you order? Even dimes think with a corrupted mind Adapted to the crime, living with regrets In order to survive gotta get high Cautious with time, paranoia all through his body Trying love for a hobby, you know gangsters come with kids Teaching them wasn't his EBT, the corner store, he go to fill up the fridge Approached by a little nigga, hoodie over his lid Looked down the barrel of a burner tucked, aimed at his wig Let him fire, then he fired, fired
