Lyrics

[INTRO]
Yeah, you know ,
IB’S CRAZY BABY',
I.C FOR SHORT ',
YEAAAAHHH!

[CHORUS]
Pick your gun up, bust it off!
Fuck all y’all hitters, y’all soft!
And y’all scared, and y’all timid,
I’ma kill all y’all dead in a minute.
This that click clack, get jacked,
I push yo' shit back,
Get crack, flip that,
Then count them big stacks.
(Whaaattt!)
I’m ‘bout that paper,
(Whaaatttt!)
I make that paper,
(Whaaattt!)
I’ll take your paper, then spend your paper,
Like it’s my paper,
(Say whaaattt?)

[VERSE 1]
Please don’t confuse me with these pissy punk ass rookies, Who play with their pussies,
This not the semi, it’s the fully.
Please don’t play with me, buddy,
I’m Blicky packin pullin pistols, plus I’m taking your money.
My revolver the problem solver, Ruger hitter mover, Move and my killers shoot ya,
You want two from that toolie to Shoot through your Mendolah, do ya?
I got a pool full of piranha, sharks, and barracuda,
My dogs like Cujo, I’ll sickem they’ll chew through ya.

[CHORUS]
Pick your gun up, bust it off!
Fuck all y’all hitters, y’all soft!
And y’all scared, and y’all timid,
I’ma kill all y’all dead in a minute.
This that click clack, get jacked,
I push yo' shit back,
Get crack, flip that,
Then count them big stacks.
(Whaaattt!)
I’m ‘bout that paper,
(Whaaatttt!)
I make that paper,
(Whaaattt!)
I’ll take your paper, then spend your paper,
Like it’s my paper,
(Say whaaattt?)

[VERSE 2]
AK cook you like a baked potato
Hook that killer to a respirator I ain’t never been no life taker
I just played a cut like a light saber
My hitters come to your door like a News paper
I hit you with the bass like a jazz player
No, B.B. King or BB guns
I got two AR’s.
Do you need one?
You need something where we come from
they confront you where we come from.
They got guns when you see them come
they got guns better get you one
till then Better run when you see them come
Reloaded aim it and bus it you dipping dodging and ducking you hoping that we don’t hit nothing. We know that we’re gonna hit something you and your God had a discussion. Then bullets popped out of your stomach, cause me and my hitters were Bussin
them killers just murdered your cousin,
but you don’t want put in no work though so we looking at you like fuck it
let him get out of the car bro, but don’t nobody tell him nothing
man I’ve seen many men like 50
pull that shotgun on Ricky
start bussing off to their empty and dinner hitters shirt got sticky. It was blood soaked and it’s dripping that’s what happens when your court slipping.

[CHORUS]
Pick your gun up, bust it off!
Fuck all y’all hitters, y’all soft!
And y’all scared, and y’all timid,
I’ma kill all y’all dead in a minute.
This that click clack, get jacked,
I push yo' shit back,
Get crack, flip that,
Then count them big stacks.
(Whaaattt!)
I’m ‘bout that paper,
(Whaaatttt!)
I make that paper,
(Whaaattt!)
I’ll take you