Letra de Federal Reality - Pooh Shiesty

(Red, that ho so fuckin' bumpin', bruh)

Blrrrd, blrrrd, blrrrd, blrrrd

Blrrrd, get up, pussy

Get up with me

Bulletproof, I'm the bully

You walk 'round Memphis, you know I'm totin' a fully

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

Pussy 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, pussy

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