FDO

Album

Single

Label

Atlantic Records

Genre

Southern Hip Hop

Composer(s)

Lontrell Williams, Jr.;Tiquon Pryor

Entered Chart

Dec 27, 2025

Peak Date

Jan 10, 2026

Released

December 12, 2025

"FDO" (an acronym for "First Day Out") is a comeback single by Pooh Shiesty, released on December 12, 2025. The track was his first official release following his early release from federal prison in October 2025, after serving over three years of a five-year sentence. In hip-hop terms, this places "FDO" in a long and proud tradition, somewhere between Gucci Mane's "1st Day Out tha Feds" and Meek Mill's post-incarceration catharsis; songs that treat freedom not as a feeling, but as a flex. "FDO" is a stream-of-consciousness flow where Shiesty flexes about walking fresh out of the feds to getting back to stacks of cash, expensive jewelry, foreign cars and his inner circle. A large portion of the track is dedicated to maintaining his tough guy persona. Using vivid, literal descriptions of street life, "FDO" serves as a status report to his fans and a warning to his enemies that Pooh Shiesty is back and more successful than before. Shiesty began conceptualizing "FDO" while incarcerated, but life kept changing, even behind bars, and the track stayed unfinished. Once free, he went straight back to the studio and completed the song in a single session, turning the shock of homecoming into raw material. "I had to come with this particular song because it's like the message," he told XXL mag. "It fit around the 'I'm back' typa vibe." Shiesty said he couldn't fully rap about the welcome he received until it actually happened, and once it did, "everything just hit me and it came out perfect." TP808, Shiesty's longtime collaborator, crafted a production rooted in the menacing Southern trap sound that initially catapulted Shiesty to mainstream prominence. They wrote and finalized the song together on Shiesty's first day back in the studio, which gives the title an almost bureaucratic literalness. The video, directed by Cotto0verdidit, doubles down on the homecoming theme: celebration, freedom, and Shiesty performing like someone making up for lost time. It's less narrative than declaration. "FDO" debuted at #1 on the Hot R&B/Hip-Hop Songs chart, Shiesty's first chart-topper and surpassing his previous best of #6 for "Back In Blood."

(Once again, I'm locked in with TP, we finna make a hit)
Pussy-nigga, blrrrd, ayy

FDO, FTF, first day out, bitch, fuck the feds
Walked out the jail, I saw six foreigns, I just got out the bunk bed
Three million cash, can't fit in my hands, then sit some on my head
Bae, come put that pussy on me, bitch, I'm fresh from out the feds (on God)
I say fresh from out the feds, baby, come put that pussy on me (put that pussy on me)
Turnt as fuck in the strip club, ran out of ones, started throwin' hunnids
Nigga, I can't fumble shit, the whole world been waitin' on it (yup)
Tucked that knife all way to R&D, gave it to my lil' homie, nigga (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 (fuck 'em)
She just actin' 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 nothin' 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 snaked Martin Luther King (yup)
Extra aggressive out in traffic 'cause Hank ain't in the backseat (free Hank)
Everywhere I go, it's cars trailin' 'cause Reckless ain't drivin' me (long live the gang)
I get mad when I look around and my members ain't where they 'posed to be
A whole war goin' on, I'm stuck in the cage, it drove me crazy


(Kill this time, Shiesty, stay out the way)
30, pass me that Drac' (blrrrd)
(Say fuck the hood, Memphis ain't no good)
Get your bitch 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, he can't outsnake a snake
I ain't choose the streets, they chose me, steppin' on shit my lane
I ain't choose to rap, it chose me, my name held too much weight
Type influence I got where I'm from, got Yo Gotti totin' 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 shit to say
SF90, I'm allergic to Corvettes, fuck a C8 (lil' nigga)
This an F8, not a C8, nigga, Mansory edition
In the May-May, oh my God, what-happened-to-Virgil edition (that Maybach)
In the Wray-Wray, widebody, Cullinan, Black Badge edition (that Rolls-Royce)
In the same Scat Pack since I left, that mean you stuck, lil' nigga (yup)
We all on a race to the top, these niggas stuck, can't get no bigger (say what?)
I got richer while in jail, locked in the feds outdoin' niggas (on God)
Now my watch got on a watch, my chain got more chains than you niggas
Ain't no such thing as real niggas, but I'm damn sure ain't counterfeit (I ain't fakin' this shit)


Hid ten M's in the bank, then went fed, got penitentiary rich (I'm still filthy rich)
Orderin' Ferraris off a jail call, I'm real rich
Make sure she cover my name up if you plan on keepin' the bitch (fuck her)
I signed a deal, then went to jail, they ain't even seen me pop my shit (on gang)
I'm just now buyin' a chain that say my name, I been bullshittin'
My niggas 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 changin' fits (what?)
Every seven, I change the bitch (what?), nothin' but foreigns when we change lanes (blrrrd)
Hood poet, all these jewels I drop, how you ain't make a chain? (Goofy)
He ain't dead, but I got niggas in the feds smokin' Lil Wayne (that Tunechi)
Soon I see my Memphis homies, ayy, man, say, man (what up?)
I had nine M's to my name, makin' chi-chis out Shabangs
Reorganized my whole gang, on Sundays, we work on our aim (on God)
And every month on the thirteenth, I'm boppin' out with a new chain
I heard street niggas gettin' tummy tucks, told you these rappers lame (man, these niggas gay)
In my cell I did a thousand burpees, I toned up my frame (thousand of 'em straight)
Fitted suit on, fitted cap turned backwards, Richard Mille plain (Patek plain jane)
Them steppers who got him served, they wasn't doin' it for lil' Saint
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, you just like Bronny James (facts)

I asked her 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, niggas dropped million dollars worth salt around my gang (right there by my name, nigga)
Please tell me that shit fell up out they pockets, skinny man
Please tell these rap niggas sayin', "Blrrrd"
Without permission that they stealin' (blrrrd, blrrrd, blrrrd)
Memphis menace, kids, say no to drugs and damn right to killin' (blrrrd)
She choose, but her lips ain't move, I read her eyes, they said, "Pimp me"
See, bae, I'm least likely some pimpin', but I'm more likely a bachelor
Super Shiesty, crooked letter, crooked letter, David Banner (slatt)
In the trap, feelin' like O-Dog, watchin' hits I did on camera (I shoot shit on camera)
Out on papers with a 922G sittin' on my counter (say what?)
I'm out on papers with a fully ARP sittin' on the counter (blrrrd, that blrrrd)
If you think you got more shots than CG, come and try your luck (pussy)
You ain't never bought no crate or no grenade, shut the fuck up (shut y'all broke-ass up, nigga)
I just ordered a gun store, nobody ain't got more chops than us (on God)
901, 375, 0762, call my bluff

I treat a player like a player and a custo like a cluck
You need to treat your glizzy like a collared shirt and button it up (ah, ah)
I treat gangsters like civilians, I treat smart niggas like ducks (quack)
Long story short, short story shorter, nigga, I cannot be touched (at all)
Cannot slip up, can't get on books, can't go out sad, can't get out far (the fuck?)
I sicced a C girl on the opps, she left an AirTag in his glove box (slatt)

KD patient, he might spank 'em next year or tomorrow
I took my homie Dummo Glock 'cause he went out like Cheddar Bob (fuck him)
Thank every bitch I had to shit on for these foreigns in my garage (they custom)
Every bitch who lost faith in me named after one of my cars
Where y'all? Stolo still parked, stuffin' ZaZa in pickle jars (blrrrd, blrrrd, blrrd)
If my Drac' jam on me, we beefin', 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 nigga