Stacy Krabs

They want smoke
Picked the right one
Nigga, where my gun?
Hit one, he drop to the floor
Then I hit his cuz
Got his guts hanging out his side
Make it hard to run
Other homie skrt off in the whip
Said, «Man, I got a son.»
Chase him down, fill him up with slugs
Boy, I’on give a fuck
Niggas think it’s sweet like Hersheys
Heaters come and melt you up
Belt you up, leavin welts and stuff
I tried to tell you, bruh
Mess with us
Uzi get cracking shit like a shell, you nuts
Pull up in a mask and I get it like where it at?
Big gat make a faggot start spazzing, have heart attack
Stats at the maximum, do the same for my stacks
Rats get to tattling, whack em and clean the traps
And y’all need to stick to rapping bout sadness cause that’s a fact
And you need to quit the rapping bout blasting and running laps
You ain’t never had no smoke and I see that that shit a act
Matter fact, pull up on me wherever, I never lack
Think you bout it like you P, I’ll take the Ps up off yo ass
Think you clout you a fiend, I put the laser on yo head
Take that laser off yo head and put that shit up on yo mans
Niggas want to laugh and joke, I cannot entertain it
Cause I’m in this shit for music and mula, not entertainment
And you faking, trying to get famous
Lil boy, that’s not how you make it
Just face it, that shit you doing ain’t doing nothing, you basic
Bitch I feel like Krabs in the bank
Bitch I feel like Krabs in that motherfucking safe
Where my cake bitch?
Bitch I feel like Krabs in the bank
Bitch I feel like Krabs in the safe
Where the fuck is my pay?
Bitch