"Cartel" lyrics

I got friends that go to work
And they wouldn't hesitate to put in work for me
Hit me for your LB's, I'll give it dirty cheap
Tryna double up my money on a large scale
You know my block's got guns like the cartel
Think we fell off, you must be mad
I just spun fifty packs out the duffle bag
Tell the labels, "We ain't signing for no hundred bags"
True Stories 2, I've got them running mad

Me and GR, that's two booters
'018, the gang moving too ruthless
Me and A hopped out and left the pole toothless
This is F Block, we ain't shooting off of scooters
Hanging out the back seat, letting straps go
My first shooting, I clipped off a mango
Precision Team hit me with an ASBO
'021, still letting my mash go
Bap, bap, bap when I see my opps
I'm 'bout to cop a mad ting with some freezing rocks
Yo, I ain't speaking a lot
I was in the back seat stuffing teeth into Glocks

I got friends that go to work
And they wouldn't hesitate to put in work for me
Hit me for your LB's, I'll give it dirty cheap
Tryna double up my money on a large scale
You know my block's got guns like the cartel
Think we fell off, you must be mad
I just spun fifty packs out the duffle bag
Tell the labels, "We ain't signing for no hundred bags"
True Stories 2, I've got them running mad

I would never lie about the things I did
Go check my CV, I really ringed off sticks
"My block's wet", tell 'em, "Miss me with that shit"
'Cause when I stabbed up their boss, they were ringing me and shit
I ain't tryna dead beef, rather smoke dead opps
I was stuck in FT, tryna spin ten shots
Now I'm twenty floors up and I'm getting mad slops
We don't bury no waps, burners get slapped off
Cars get burned out, phones get cranked off
Turn the phone back on, I'm still making mad prof
I was on a dumb case, still flinging packs out
Gotta love A cah he had me in a mad drought

I got friends that go to work
And they wouldn't hesitate to put in work for me
Hit me for your LB's, I'll give it dirty cheap
Tryna double up my money on a large scale
You know my block's got guns like the cartel
Think we fell off, you must be mad
I just spun fifty packs out the duffle bag
Tell the labels, "We ain't signing for no hundred bags"
True Stories 2, I've got them running mad