Brrptptatata
'Ey when your hear shots ring
It's probably my team
10 o'clock I'm in the shower, phone rings
It's for you Wayne, I'm in the shower
It's important Shawty Fatt is on his way
Said he needs to talk to you before the show
Tonight at 2: 31, alright, okay
Slide the curtain back and grab the phone
"What up? what's up with it? what's going on?

It isn't like you, to go interrupting me for anything at all"
He said "I'm just fucking with you Wolf" and laughed if off
Hahaha... Dick head, hang up the phone
Take the phone, wrap my towel, dry off and throw my clothes on
In an hour we go home, though I ain't liking the idea
Of opening up for Trina
I support my clique through whatever

So I met my team up at the parking lot
We all came together in separate cause
We like to debate up alot, small town super stars
Every clique got somebody
That is spotted more than bout it
But I doubt if you ever seen a soldier more bout it
Then I ride and die
Partner with the hard like a pirahna
And I bite like a lion

With the bullets to back up the drama
2 Real for Tv, yea pulled up in a Minivan
Bumpin' that Jeezy, "What up Wolf? "
"What up my man? ", I dept his hand
Security was yelling already that we needed to move
But we ain't studying that until security lost a clue
And started mouthin' off to the wrong one
Specifically the main one who aim guns
No, bad idea fat boy, I seen it coming

Fistful surrounded them
A couple of them was swinging and yelling
It could've been over in just a second
But the asshole was persistent
And 2 Real for Tv ain't with it
Me and my dread homie held tight
They started yelling out the cops are coming
But it was to late something's got a hold

And 2 Real popped the trunk, grabbed the steel
Cocked it back and walked into the front door of the club
You don't want it here, there, anywhere I promise you
The sirens are sounding for the rest of the crew
Called my homie Fist to get the scoop of what went down
"It was nothing Wolf", shit
We up in this bitch chillin' now
Damn
That's how ya'll get down?
For sho' Fistful