Let Em Have It - SOB X RBE, SHORELINE MAFIA, DaBoii

Talkin' down your own bro, sound like a dork to me

Want beef but you snitchin', sound like pork to me

Nigga thought that I was lackin', keep a torch with me

And I be rockin' with them shooters, they escort for me

Police say it’s muddy, thirty shells in that whip

Wet bab, I could probably sell in that shit

Keep on fuckin' with the devil, it be hell in this bitch

Keep on actin' like he tough and catch a shell in this bitch

Talkin' rich when you broke, that’s a bad mouth

Follow the next nigga’s moves, that’s a bad route

And every window rolled up, it’s attack out

And I’ll face every fear before I back down

Pussy soundin' like the gang, that’s a copycat

We four deep up in the rentals with all kind of straps

And if K-Rod take your bitch then come and buy her back

I got them demons in my body, don’t know how to act

I don’t fuck with niggas and I never did

And if I hit it from the back I probably touch her rib

Side nigga to his bitch, I got better dick

And for them niggas wanna diss, I got a longer clip, bitch

Rob Vicious, fuckin' niggas' bitches

'Posed to hit her once and now she back 'cause she addicted

Niggas talkin' down then we gon' pull up with extensions

It’s Vicious, I gotta get money and break bitches

Robby Vicious got that TEC, he gon' chip somethin'

Bullets flyin' out that TEC, watch it rip somethin'

Say you sippin' on that Tech, you don’t sip nothin'

Say you smoke with no rec, come and get some

Robby Vicious got that chop, leave you holey

Tell the cops you don’t know me

Hundred round bust you down like a Rollie

Hit the ground, you talk down on my homies

I’m a dope dealer baby, let me change your life up

Goin' thirty off a perc-30 with the pipe tucked

Fendi hold the forty, we might take your life bruh

Shawty want the winning team, no niggas like us

All my niggas want the smoke, no niggas fight us

I ain’t worried 'bout that bitch, I had to boss my life up

Run game on a bitch, game on a bitch

Pop a pill then came on a bitch, gang on that bitch

Uh, Slimmy motherfuckin' B

Red bottom for the cleats, twenty-two up in this gleek

Bitch I’m really in these streets, Crest nigga, three C’s

Thinkin' I was fuckin' for the free, bitch please, uh

Been slidin' all night, no sleep

Cuffin' on that thot bitch, let the ho be

Paid a band plus for this Louis long sleeve

All that dissin', six feet is where you niggas gon' be, uh

And when I hit your bitch it’s from the backend

Eight-fifty for the belt, that’s why I’m saggin', uh

Like Nike I just do it, no practice

Niggas want smoke, shit, fuck it, let 'em have it, uh

This stick up on my hip but this ain’t Madden

In the Aston, gettin' head from a ratchet

Glock plastic, make your mama pick a casket, uh

And if you ain’t talkin' bands, ain’t no collabing, bitch