Where we at?
It's some real bad men
Bo Jack, let's get it
One's for the money, two's for the show
Three for the foreign with them blues for the low
Third time is a charm, hit 'em two in a row
One love to my niggas, chunk a deuce for my bros
Second time around, only a few niggas know
Shot 'em three times, either you a friend or a foe
Three strikes and you out, pour a deuce in a one-liter Sprite
Two stouts, three fours of the juice, droppin' trays in a two-liter
One deep in a two-seater, countin' up pros in the coupe
Answer on the third ring, you second in line, I'm first string
Fightin' two counts of first-degree murder at thirteen
Shootouts are similar to a two-drink minimum
My nigga Tre Pound sendin' double shots
Still that same one nigga 'posed to love to hug the block
Tryna double up on Sixth and Hubbel, hit a triple-double