FDO Lyrics – Pooh Shiesty

Read the full FDO lyrics by Pooh Shiesty along with the music video, song credits, release information and other details about the song. If you enjoy Pooh Shiesty's music, you can also explore Lil Bro and MANE, two other songs by Pooh Shiesty.

[Intro: Pooh Shiesty]
(Once again, I'm locked in with TP, we finna make a hit) Pu*sy n!gga, blrrrd

[Verse: Pooh Shiesty & BIG30]
Ayy, FDO, FTF, first day out, b!tch, fu*k the feds
Walked out the jail, I saw six foreigns, I just got out the bunk bed
Three million cash, can't fit in the hands, then sit something on my head
Bae, come put that pu*sy on me, b!tch, I'm fresh from out the feds (On God)
I say fresh from out the feds, baby, come put that pu*sy on me (Put that pu*sy on me)
Turnt as fu*k in the strip club, ran out of ones, start throwing hundreds
N!gga, I can't fumble s*it, the whole world been waiting on it (Yup)
Tote that knife all way to R&D, gave it to my lil' homie, n!gga (Let's go)
Ain't no more Mufasa, Mr. Goldman, I catch jets to Johnny (Yup)
Ain't no more outfits from Southland Mall, this setup made in London (Yup)
Couple hoes jumped off my bid, majority waited on me (Fu*k 'em)
She just acting faithful to you 'til I get home, trust me, homie (I stamp that)
Feel impatient, I might do a demonstration off GP (This one here on me)
I ain't shot nothing in like four years, I ain't sent a hit in three (On GP)
Don't let Durk verse go to your head, ain't nobody slime as me (I stamp that)
I'm the one from 'round the corner where they snake Martin Luther King (Yup)
Extra aggressive out in traffic 'cause Hank ain't in the backseat (Lil Hank)
Everywhere I go, it's cars trailing 'cause Reckless ain't driving me (Long live the gang)
I get mad when I look around and my members ain't where they 'posed to me
A whole war going on, I'm stuck in the cage, this drove me crazy
(Genuine this time, Shiesty, stay out the way) 30, pass me that Drac' (Blrrrd)
(Say, fu*k the hood, Memphis ain't look good) Get your b!tch ass out my face (Blrrrd)
Unfortunately, I'm CEO and the top shooter for my gang
My grandma told me keep my grass low, the whole time I'm the snake (A slime)
Smelled his plot from like three miles away, you can't outsnake a snake
I ain't choose the streets, they chose me, stepping on s*it my lane
I ain't choose to rap, it chose me, my name had too much weight
Type influence I got where I'm from, got Yo Gotti toting a Drac' (On God)
When you meet me, you gon' get real motivated same day (On God)
Them tear drops played out, go get your favorite bullet on your face (On God)
Do not rap when I am told, I rap when I got s*it to say
SF90, I'm allergic to Corvettes, fu*k a C8 (Lil' n!gga)
This an F8, not a C8, n!gga, Mansory edition

And the Maymay, oh my God, what happened to Virgil edition? (That Maybach)
And the Royroy widebody, Cullinan, black badge edition (That Rolls-Royce)
And the same Scat Pack since I left, that mean you stuck, lil' n!gga (Yup)
We all on a race to the top, these n!ggas stuck, can't get no bigger (Say what?)
I got richer while in jail, locked in the feds outdoing n!ggas (On God)
Now my watch got on a watch, my chain got more chains than you n!ggas
Ain't no such thing as real n!ggas, but I'm down showing counterfeit
Hit ten M's in the bank, then went fed, got penitential risks (Still feel the risks)
Ordering Ferraris off a jail call, I'm real rich
Make sure she cover my name up, if you plan on keeping the b!tch (Fu*k her)
I signed a deal, then went to jail, they ain't even see me pop my s*it (On Goddy)
I'm just not buying a chain didn't say my name, I been bulls*itting
My n!ggas died while in chains, get back gang, I'm right back for revenge (Gang, on gang)
Ayy, I'm just way more colder, every eight hours I'm changing fits (What?)
Every seven I change the b!tch (What?), nothing but foreigns when we change lanes (Blrrrd)
Hood poet, all this juice I drop, how you ain't make a change? (Goofy)
He ain't dead, but I got n!ggas in the feds smoking Lil Wayne (Big Tunechi)
Soon I see my Memphis homies, ayy, man, say, man (What up?)
I have nine M's to my name, making chee-cheese out your bank
To reorganize my whole gang, on Sunday, we work on our aim (On God)
And every month on the thirteenth, I'm bopping out with a new chain
I heard street n!ggas getting tummy-tucked, told you these rappers lame (Man, these n!ggas gay)
In my cell, I did a thousand burpees, I toned up my frame
Fitted suit on, fitted cap (??) 'bout this Richard Millie plain (Yeah, this plain Jane)
Them steppers who got him served, they was doing for lil' Saint (FBJ and Saint Laurent)
See, my daddy my first co-D, jumped in the streets, he showed me lanes (Them facts)
Your daddy a killer, but you ain't him, just like Bronny James (Bet)
I asked where she want my kids, she told me grab the brush and paint
So I aimed right at her forehead and tried to spell out my name (Yeah, yeah, yeah)
I got locked, n!gga dropped million dollars worth salt around my gang (Right there by my name, n!gga)
Please tell me that s*it fell up out they pockets, skinny man
Please tell these rap n!ggas saying, "Blrrrd" without permission that they stealing (Blrrrd, blrrrd, blrrrd)
Memphis menace, kids say no to drügs and they ain't right to kill it (Blrrrd)
She choose, but her lips ain't move, I read her eyes, they said, "Pimp me"
See, bae, I'm least likely some pimping, but I'm more likely a bachelor
Super Shiesty, crooked letter, crooked letter, David Banner (Slatt)
In the trap, feeling like O Dog, watching hits I did on camera (I shoot s*it on camera)
Out on papers with a 922G sitting on my kennel (Say what?)
I'm out on papers with a fully ARP sitting on a kennel (Blrrrd, that blrrrd)
Ayy, you think you got more shots than CG? Come and try your luck (Pu*sy)
You ain't never bought no crate or no grenade, shut the fu*k up (Shut your broke-ass up, n!gga)
I just ordered a gun store, nobody ain't got more chops than us (On God)
901, 375, 0762, call my bluff (Trap)
I treat a player like a player and the custo like a clutch (You need it)
You need to treat your glizzy like a collared shirt and button it up (Ah, ah)
I treat gangsters like civilians, I treat smart n!ggas like ducks (Quack)
Long story short, short story shorter, n!gga, I cannot be touched (At all)
Cannot slip up, can't get down busted, can't go out sad, can't get out far (Fu*k)
I seek to see girls on the opps, she left her AirTag in his glove box (Slatt)
KD patient, he might spank 'em next year or tomorrow
I took my homie (??) Glock 'cause he went out like Cheddar Bob (Fu*k him)
Thank every b!tch I had to s*it on for these foreigns in my garage (They custom)
Every b!tch who lost faith in me named after one of my cars
With y'all stolo still (??) stuffing zaza in pickle jars (Blrrrd, blrrrd, blrrd)
If my Drac' jam on me, we beefing, I'ma turn Kendrick Lamar
He got his car flipped on Lamar, died with his gun, he couldn't even shoot
I'm CEO, I cannot go, even my strikers bulletproof
All my hoes from Memphis still allowed to call me Mr. Pooh
Seven foreigns rose gold, my first day out, damn fool, blrrrd (Blrrrd, blrrrd)
Rooster-ass n!gga