Yo DJ play that new BONES song right now!
But still, you just don't hear me though
Robbin' in the 9 'fo
But still, you just don't hear me though
Robbin' in the 9 'fo

Kicking in the door, clip hold 24, I'm home, bitch, what the issue is?
Bitching on the phone to a bitch so loud, you couldn't even hear a DeadBoy enterin'
Caught him in the kitchen, I am fucking on a mission
Twelve shots, motherfuck a pistol whip
He sipping that mud, I slip on that blood, now the sole on my boots they glistening
Blood spill, spit in his face
Sprayin' him like some fucking mace
Creep pulling up in a G, skull stitched on the seats inside my getaway
Tanqueray in my glass, reminiscing on my fucked up past
Matter of fact bustin' all black but there's many memories I wish I never had
Kicking back, smoke a blunt
High as fuck, my brain is ripped
Talking to my partner 'bout a play for some guala he down, I'm down, lets hit the strip
Storm clouds every day, even if it's just inside my head
Thunder and lightning, I am coming to strike him
He see BONES and he know he dead

But still, you just don't hear me though
Robbin' in the 9 'fo
But still, you just don't hear me though
Robbin' in the 9 'fo
(Ride to it, ride to it
Your ass can ride to it)
(Ride to it, ride to it
Your ass can ride to it)
Ride to it, ride to it
(Your ass can ride to it)
(Ride to it, ride to it
Your ass can ride to it)