Pressure

(Zaytoven) Yeah, haha Yeah, street shit Yeah, no party music, nigga Yeah, we don't do that Real talk, what you gon' do when the pressure on? All snitch niggas get blown down like saxophones Two-thousand-twenty, I ain't talkin' on no cellphone (No cap) You know them feds listenin', it's tapped, you dead wrong (Yeah) Phone conversations get you thirty years (Thirty years) I ain't talkin' on the phone for a whole year (Yeah) You know where the spot at, you can meet me there (Jugghouse) And you can't trust half these niggas, they wear wires, yeah He got a wire on, I don't trust shawty I'm 'bout to trick him to the spot, let Steezy bust shawty I got a plug in the Bay, I call him E-40 Hit a nigga long range with the Glock 40 Snitchin' at an all-time high now Niggas tellin' everything to cut they time down Salute my right-hand partner Pep and son, they stayed down And if I ever go broke again, lay it down Every time a nigga snitch, we call him Tekashi You can't trust these dirty feds, I know they watchin' Put pressure on these niggas when them bodies droppin' How he tell on you? I thought that was your partner, Street Real talk, what you gon' do when the pressure on? All snitch niggas get blown down like saxophones Two-thousand-twenty, I ain't talkin' on no cellphone (No cap) You know them feds listenin', it's tapped, you dead wrong (Yeah) Phone conversations get you thirty years (Thirty years) I ain't talkin' on the phone for a whole year (Yeah) You know where the spot at, you can meet me there And you can't trust half these niggas, they wear wires, yeah (Yeah, yeah) Niggas sing like Bryson Tiller when that pressure on (Pussy) Yellow Lamborghini with a bad yellowbone (Bad) Swear to God I had a shoebox with twenty prepaid phones (Throwaway) Swear to God, he owed me money, we showed up at his home (Let me get that) That nigga went to jail and he didn't make bail (Damn) And he swear he didn't tell, but I can't tell (Damn) Bags of pressure, residue under my fingernails (Woo) Two Cali bitches sittin' in the back, call them my City Girls (Uh) OG plug in the hood, but he turned to a rat (Hah) Lost all his respect in the hood and he can't get it back (Fuck him) Did a drive-by in a gray Acura, next day, paint it black (Woo) Cutthroat nigga, I don't know how to stab in the back (Yeah, yeah) Real talk, what you gon' do when the pressure on? All snitch niggas get blown down like saxophones Two-thousand-twenty, I ain't talkin' on no cellphone (No cap) You know them feds listenin', it's tapped, you dead wrong (Yeah) Phone conversations get you thirty years (Thirty years) I ain't talkin' on the phone for a whole year (Yeah) You know where the spot at, you can meet me there And you can't trust half these niggas, they wear wires, yeah