Shooters shooters we some number 9's I like bad bitches I ain't got no type Didn't see them the first time, I slid round there twice Guys getting left, for not moving right On the way to that mil' with no lifelines I don't know black timing, I'm with my shots from time My cat's on the hinges, she ain't got 9 lives Still serve cats food, I ain't round no mice I'm no soldier boy, I'm really from the hood Made bands from the block, my guys know that I'm good I could never fall off, get that understood I still step round on violence, like I know I should Opp block coming like jheez, I still roll on dry fumes And my bro's ride from his cell, cah that's the right thing to do I ain't stabbing no arms, I had my jail for a fluke The opps like bitches, they're workrate dead and they rude I took that loss, but I make that back Fed took mans prof', that's a light few bags Stepped out them cells, minor setback Got my simcards again, then got back to the trap I get them green lights, when it's time to go Cah they know I'm on the pitch, tryna score them goals I could never switch sides, I'm feeling giggs and scholes They talk about get man down, and they slid with poles Shooters shooters we some number 9's I like bad bitches I ain't got no type Didn't see them the first time, I slid round there twice Guys getting left, for not moving right On the way to that mil' with no lifelines I don't know black timing, I'm with my shots from time My cat's on the hinges, she ain't got 9 lives Still serve cats food, I ain't round no mice Back on my bullshit Ten toes ting with a manbag, black trench coat and a full clip Them boys ain't on piss just doing up nose they force it Man still lurk in the field, ai tryna ride out like horses Got a long ting looking all grim, touch mans skin that's corpses I been down there with the something, on the opp block like [?] My handting looking all Russian, I block down squares and quarters I need that whip concussion I aim for the dome that's normal I step with the stepping My ting filled all grimmish man know I kweff with the kweffing I snap off the dots one handed man crash corn we catch it I still serve food like banquet man get chef with the cheffer I steal man's juice they're wet up Straight up juug it The packs them came in rapid but I do the trapline kicking Four door skrrt in traffic manna just skrrt and whip it Still do road with the package I get hands on with the digits Broke niggas dem move like bitches Shooters shooters we some number 9's I like bad bitches I ain't got no type Didn't see them the first time, I slid round there twice Guys getting left, for not moving right On the way to that mil' with no lifelines I don't know black timing, I'm with my shots from time My cat's on the hinges, she ain't got 9 lives Still serve cats food, I ain't round no mice Shooters Shooters we some number 9s I like bad bitches I ain't got no type Didn't see them the first time, I slid round there twice Guys getting left, for not moving right On the way to that mil' with no lifelines I don't know black timing, I'm with my shots from time My cat's on the hinges she ain't got 9 lives Still serve cats food I ain't round no mice I'm doing library with this whizzer long Silent shootings tryna switch man off Two waps in a four door, we take risks a lot Do it up close like a penalty, know I can't miss this shot Getting to the money like two ways, and I won't miss this guap Hit the plug back in two days, when before I couldn't fit this box Next pack came needy, now I gotta switch this box Fucked with the barrel on the twelve gauge, now I gotta switch this dot But it's bout time that we switched it Bro weren't gentle with the clip and the sand all day if the [?] Step on badness soon as I spot man I see bare man just sprinting My young boy just grabbed his sawn off back out his hand he's limping I got bored off packing it twice now I got six inna [?] On 9 with a Russian 9, have you ever seen drillers on bikes Man let sky from a 1-2-5 Selection of waps we ain't got no type Shooters with some number 9 Shooters shooters we some number 9's I like bad bitches I ain't got no type Didn't see them the first time, I slid round there twice Guys getting left, for not moving right On the way to that mil' with no lifelines I don't know black timing, I'm with my shots from time My cat's on the hinges, she ain't got 9 lives Still serve cats food, I ain't round no mice