Going in for the Kill - French Montana, Chinx, Cheeze

I’m goin' in for the kill

I’m doin' it for a thrill

Oh, I’m hoping you’ll understand

And not let go of my hand

I’m goin' in for the kill

I’m doin' it for a thrill

Oh, I’m hoping you’ll understand

And not let go of my hand

Ya’ll niggas need a co-sign;

homie, I’m the gold mine

Montana Johnson when it’s showtime

Nigga pass the ball, make a call;

watch me go in for the kill

I was stuntin' on you corny niggas way before the deal

Fast money, fuckin' hoes, flippin' work;

call me flip

Rap niggas all diesel, homie;

probably a script

See the black van packed up;

ski-masks, black gloves

Four niggas mashed up, get a nigga wrapped up

I did it like a boss, fuck a hand-out

Room full of centers, I’m a stand-out

Now I gave 'em no choice;

got the coke-boy shit planned out

Hundred-fifty Spider all tanned out;

Montana (Montana)

I’m goin' in for the kill

I’m doin' it for a thrill

Oh, I’m hoping you’ll understand

And not let go of my hand

I’m goin' in for the kill

I’m doin' it for a thrill

Oh, I’m hoping you’ll understand

And not let go of my hand

Listen, for all my dope-boys up over them pots mixin'

New on the block chasin' hot vixens

Gettin' money, right?

Well do your thing, shorty

The drama messy, I send some niggas to clean for me

They leave the scene spotless;

I like my V’s topless

The hoes talk about me, see I’m the trendin' topic

See the riot’s that gang, and ya’ll know that

That break it up and give it to the strip, you know I’m on that

I’m stickin' to the format

Never catch him slippin', like I’m stickin' to the floor-mat

So these niggas could fall back

I toss some money in the sky and watch it trickle down

Came a long way from the P’s;

take a look at me now

I’m doin' it for a thrill

Oh, I’m hoping you’ll understand

And not let go of my hand

I’m goin' in for the kill

I’m doin' it for a thrill

Oh, I’m hoping you’ll understand

And not let go of my hand

Keys to the Beamer;

Beamie take the top off

Did ya’ll watch the fumes come out like a genie?

That’s the Sour;

power can’t kill me, bitch

Love when I’m high, cause my eyes look dreamy

Four-fifth chrome, that’ll leave your dome steamy

Custom-made Lenscrafters still couldn’t see me

Flip, pimp, and crack dough

I roll the O, you pop the Ex;

tick-tack-toe

Send my condolence, give him hope for best wishes

They hate cause they bitches;

ride my stick like witches

Nowadays niggas fraudulent, frontin';

all gimmicks

In the game they all the same;

might as well get a mimic

Order to your dog, UPS with deliverance

My man in the can gettin' green like spinach

We’ll be like Popeye the sailorman

Yeah, Cheeze ya dealin' man

They spinnin' on the top, like ceiling fans

I’m goin' in for the kill

I’m doin' it for a thrill

Oh, I’m hoping you’ll understand

And not let go of my hand

I’m goin' in for the kill

I’m doin' it for a thrill

Oh, I’m hoping you’ll understand

And not let go of my hand