Dog Shit Militia

Huh, ayy, what up, Getta? (Getta Beats)

Like, damn, I can't get a beat, man?

Ayy

Huh, ayy, look me in my, yeah, huh, ayy

Look me in my, yeah, huh, ayy

Huh, ayy, yeah

Look me in my eyes, huh, yeah

Look me in my eyes, oh, you can't, buffs limousine

Scam season, I done came Tech, fuck a skinny jean

I wish he would reach for my chain, feel like Timmy T

Like, I wish he would, bitch, I'm Timmy Turner

If I'm anywhere without my gang then I'm with a burner

Yo bitch give me small fry vibes 'cause she with a burger

And tell my old bitch, "Like some pics when you finish lurking"

Yeah, check the Apple Watch, ain't no time for hoes

Like we OT with the strip, got all kind of poles

Gang caught his ass off-guard, ain't have time to pose

Bro rolling three hoes with him like he tryna bowl

Been getting, yeah, okay, yeah

Been getting jacks, you can call me "Tronny Appleseed"

Tryna run off? I'ma point the shotty at your feet

I'm a real rapper, you ain't ate hibachi at the beach

Three-five a hunnid dollars, y'all gon' probably match a G

Magpul grip, big scope, and attached a beam

I eat ramen all week just to stack some cheese

Mad as fuck this bitch ain't let me fuck like I ain't actually me

Like I ain't actually him

Why would you start a war with us like you'd actually win?

Fucked her off some bundles and I got them off of smacking BINs

Slam dunk, I'ma bend her over and attack her rim

Huh, ayy, Amiri, huh, yeah, huh

Ayy, Amiri snake print, Christian Loubs, I'm a flashy fuck

Playing with her heart and in her throat, I ain't actually cuff

Chop loud as hell, might fuck around and attach a muffle

Big pape', bop sticks, we the Dog $hit Militia

If we catch him out, fuck around and all pistol whip him

Reaching for the test tube? Huh, dawg tripping tripping

Bro got 45, when you catch dawg, send a missile

Huh, I'm probably in ATL Trackhawking

Wouldn't try nobody in my gang, they like to stack coffins

Apple brick 256, bitch, I'm jack talking

Catch a burger, I might fuck around and Big Mac sauce him

Wake up, catch him everyday, I'm a jackholic

Unc' got two phones, the one with minutes he gon' slap off it

I was bank frauding but I need to chill, I'm back off it

Fake ID from Colorado, bitch, I'm Pat Dawkins

Hunnid round drum and my hitman ain't scared to blow him

Put ninety-nine on his top like an Arizona

Roll won't fit in the 'Miris, this bitch barely folding

Two chains straight from Hutchy Hutch, ain't go to Gary phone

Yeah, I ain't gonna lie, Getta did his thing

30K play if you catch me stepping in the bank

All that fighting dead, you gon' have to wrestle with the K

Hard body, at this point I don't think I bend or break