Pooh Shiesty Federal Reality Lyrics

[Intro]
(Red, that ho so f*ckin' bumpin', bruh)
Blrrrd, blrrrd, blrrrd, blrrrd
Blrrrd, get up, p*ssy
Get up with me
Bulletproof, I'm the bully
You walk 'round Memphis, you know I'm totin' a fully

[Verse]
First day out them jail doors, I burnt up all my jail clothes
'Rari truck and Richard Mille, both of 'em dipped in rose gold
Got kicked out the FCI, crashed with the GD, glizzy froze
Stood over **** with that blrrrd, somehow that bitch survived, though
In the trenches, sittin' on the curb, I hear the streets tellin' me, "Go"
Since they locked up Smurk, I don't listen to "Federal Nightmares" no more
This shit reality, they plottin' to shatter us with a RICO
These niggas'll shoot at you, you bust back at 'em, they gon' tell the folks
Six months in isolation, I learned to master patience
Showed me who real and fake and postin' "Free Shiesty" won't save 'em
I got two different ways I wanna go 'bout gettin' somethin' straighten
But this halfway house and home confinement shit finna drive me crazy
I just wanna pop out in your section, thirty deep, nigga
Turn the radio down, I'm tryna listen to the streets, nigga
Steady rippin' my trigger, fact and them for SRT
Some reason I think them switches fit better on Gen 3s, nigga
For Treyday, we chunk threes, my bitch Black and Japanese
Ridin' foreign, it's a Striker, this bitch ain't even got no key
I might let the sunroof back so when she top me, you can see Got her feet facin' the door, head in my lap, knees in the seat
I'm tryna run through the top bitches from your section in one week
p*ssy ho send me one letter talkin' 'bout she wrote, that shit weak
Behind them chains, you played them games, I'm back out, now the game's on me
Won't show my hand, feet back on land, Pooh Shiesty, capital P
A real hitter, check my credentials, he ain't slick, I just ain't kicked him
Hope my lil' niggas get richer, if she blink twice, I'ma hit her
Bitch want me to eat and kiss her, bitch, you tweakin', play with your nigga
And I heard your nigga snitched, that make both of y'all hot as shit
You ain't never seen a nigga bop in the club with your bitch
And they know we smooshed they nigga, they still ain't tried to do shit
KRISS Vector clip with a switch, 57 so accurate
All my lil' homies smack shit, even my sunroof five-percent
In the feds, if you get anything under ten, that's a win
Richard Mille my best friend, after him, it's Benjamin
Dozin' off in a Maybach Benz, I was off Wocky and Triss
Shiesty chain, three bricks of fent', two M's from my head to my wrist
I came home, nigga still broke, I wasn't even missin' shit
I'm dumpin' ashes on a sixteen thousand dollar outfit
Now all my cars rose gold, bulletproof Mansory kits
I'm still Mr. Go Too Far, ain't never goin', ain't never went, p*ssy