Dead Broke

[Hook: Future] Some of my niggas dead broke (x3) That leave your ass dead broke Some of my niggas dead broke (x3) That leave your ass dead broke No flexing dog It ain't no flexing dog Some of my niggas dead broke (x3) That leave your ass dead broke [Verse 1: Chief Keef] See I be high as I wanna be, don't smoke that bubbly I smoke that kush dog, and I smoke so lovely Your bitch all under me, she wanna suck on me She wanna fuck with me, but I sting like a bumblebee See I'm in my Burberry, in my pockets a couple g's Allergic to fake shit, get that shit the fuck from me I'm allergic to fake niggas, get them boys away from me Them boys be hating me, but them boys won't play with me 300 agency, no we not make believe We go all day with heat, D. Rose we spray these peeps But D. Rose be six hunnid', D. Rose will flip something My bitches my whips foreign, and all I know get money [Hook] [Verse 2: Fredo Santana] Some of my niggas dead broke, that ain't no damn joke They might kick a damn door, you run and you get smoked Just like a damn Newport, shots travel like passports I smoke kush and pop corks, I smoke kush and pop corks All my niggas shottas, send you to the doctor If you talking crazy then you gon' meet my thumper Your girl she don't want it, she give me head then I'm done with it She only on me cause commas come, be good homie when drama come Flexing, finessing, you know I keep weapons Kill you in a second, you know I am reckless Flexing, finessing, you know I keep weapons Kill you in a second, you know I am reckless [Hook] [Verse 3: SD] Some of my niggas dead and broke, we rob we raise hell ho These niggas don't play with me, we come through we up in heat You play you get third degree, I'm fly as a magazine These angels can't fuck with me man, I smoke till I'm off my feet Chest bumping urgently, SD bitch order me She gon' want fuck with me after she see my squad of three Bitch I'm no athlete but I score like I'm Dominique Excuse me, bitch pardon me Hope that you don't step on my sneaks We blowing urgently, man my niggas do burglaries We eat bon-appetit, we so no casualty Bullets need surgery, man I can't promise dead peeps Pockets is fat as Gleesh, savage we run the streets [Hook]