AIN'T GON SAY IT

He rollin' with no tints like he fist-bowlin
We made him use his legs, he got his whip stolen
I'm sellin' black and white, I'm stockin up on Rick Owens
And that ain't blowin' out the pack, cause it ain't shit smokin'
I'm just gon' hit him, I ain't even tryna tell no nigga

You on the list of what I own, so I can sell you nigga
My bro go put you in a box, so I can sell you nigga
It's double drop, you hit the land, so I can mail you nigga

I babysat too many kids
I could raise a nigga
She just wanna sit up on her knees like she gon' praise a nigga
Aim for the head and I won't miss, can't even graze a nigga
Ain't tryna hear yo' boyfriend talk, my bro gon' face yo' nigga
It's DT, you know what, I ain't gon' say it

Call the gang febreze, they hoppin' out them doors and they gon' spray it
You preachin' this and that like you finna catch who I hope you say it
Talkin' like you got the book and shit, I hope you finna play it
I'm real precise, so if I aim and shoot, I'm goin' for that head

He talkin' hot on live, so someone tell me how the fuck he dead
She hit my phone, talm bout she miss me, bet I leave her ass on read
He prolly demon like, he keep on stayin', all he see is red
He into talkin' shit on live, could give a fuck about what he said

My bro ain't goin' down for shit I did, you know I'm goin' fed
My bro get got, then I'm gon' get that back, ain't gotta tear the shed
It ain't no point in bein' soft, I split his muffin for that bread
Leave him stuck up in that coffin, like he couldn't get out his bed

They keep on talkin' bout his death up on the socials with a thread
Ain't got no time to waste, we slidin' on his block like we a sled
Won't see me trippin' on that bitch, I'd rather trip on bag instead
My pockets green and I'm mean, I'm somethin' like the Grinch

This nigga hit my phone about his girl, like, ain't that bout a bitch?
Don't talk about no chance, you see the chance, like, ain't you bout the risk
My cousin got the code just for that stove, he got a modded wrist
He steady bringin' up that old shit, bitch, I'm a modernist

My brother bringin' out that big shit like hippopotamus
These niggas love to beef up on the net, like, keep me out of it
I'm finna pour myself a good drink, I need a lot of this
Put 2K up on his head, attached to green beam

He gettin' hella mad bout drugs, so he a mean fiend
No need to trip bout DT and his bros, they like a dream team
He sayin' that he bought what's on his neck, I see a free thing
My voice a murder weapon, play the instrumental, kill the beat

If you ain't heard about this shit, then you should come and see DT
If she ain't tryna up no bag, then she cannot come talk to me
You sit your ass up on the internet, not sure I want that beef
(Don't want that shit)