BBQLil Reese

[Intro]
Skrrt, skrrt (Skrrt, skrrt)
Skrrt,  skrrt (Skrrt, skrrt)
Skrrt,  skrrt (Skrrt, skrrt)
Skrrt, skrrt (Skrrt, skrrt)
Skrrt, skrrt (Skrrt, skrrt)
Beat  was for Tadoe
He  ain't do it, though
Guess who got it now
Ayy,  ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy
Ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy

[Verse 1: Chief Keef]
Whatcha talking 'bout, Willis?
I can't wear my white Amiris, I got cheese on my fingers (Ayy)
Smoking  dopey-dope dope
Done, done, done is weed man, but I be with my villains (Bloods)
Skrrt-skrrt, I'm peelin'
Finna pull up, mark the spot, this ain't no fuckin' R Chronic (Bang)
Okay, since we cookin' beef
Okay, since we cookin' beef, I'ma need a large skillet (Ayy)
If he a dog, then we China
Thirty five shots, that's Cinco de Mayo, ayy
Named both guns, David and Goliath, ayy
Who tryna get high? My old head fire, ayy
You ever seen a XO spit out fire?
Told her hold on, exhausted, bitch, I'm tired, ayy
She gave me a gram, told me J.R. Rider, ayy
I beat 99 and they all light up

[Chorus: Chief Keef]
Turn his brain to some barbecue
She asked me what I like, baby, I pick you
And he live with his mama but he telling you
That his pockets is filled and his garage is too
Who is these niggas? I don't know you
Donald Trump building a wall, go run into it
Rollie on my hand and a gun is, too
Bitch, I feel like Waka Flocka, "Oh, let's do it"

[Verse 2: Lil Reese]
I pull up with them young foolies aiming at you
Too many niggas riding, they knowin' what it do
Just blew fifty thousand, made it back times two
I put them shooters on your ass, you ain't knowin' who (Nah)
That GetBack have 'em blue (Blue)
Niggas better pick a side, niggas better choose
My side, we don't lose (Lose)
My side pack them tools (Tools)
If he with the opps, then he a opp, we gon' show him what it do
Fuck around turn his brains to some barbecue
I'm like hold on bro, stand down, let me get him, let me shoot
Sosa got GetBackGang with him, too
All my niggas they gang, it ain't no fufu
Niggas killin' hoes, that's so fu

[Chorus: Chief Keef]
Turn his brain to some barbecue
She asked me what I like, baby, I pick you
And he live with his mama but he telling you
That his pockets is filled and his garage is too
Who is these niggas? I don't know you
Donald Trump building a wall, go run into it
Rollie on my hand and a gun is, too
Bitch, I feel like Waka Flocka, "Oh, let's do it"