But I peep your niggas out in my left window
So I blast and I blast, so I blast no more, yo
They call a m**r John Doe, hey, yo, b**h
Here's the seven digits, call me if you can
Only if you want it, let a n**a know
Cruising in my six-fo' rack top
I got a lot of juice a lot of f**n' block
Now when I hit that switch I'm bouncin', more bounce to the ounce
Keep the gat in my lap 'cause I'm fully strapped for the carjackers
But no haps, 'cause I pack a tech nine
Plus an AK-47, send a one-way ticket to my hell or maybe heaven, peep, n**a, I don't sleep