| Bitch, hold my bags
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| I ain’t talkin' 'bout no Apple when I’m in this bitch with Macs
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| White G Fazos, I don’t shop no Saks
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| I’m finna kick yo' door in and take all your racks
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| I don’t give a fuck about no god damn flag
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| You see me care? |
| I shoot at everybody’s ass
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| I went from writin' songs up in my fuckin' class
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| To chargin' $ 1500 for a verse in cash, lil' bitch
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| Hol' up, wait
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| I keep them diamonds locked up in my safe
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| 'Cuz these hoes might come over to scope out my place and dudes runnin' my crib
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| while she’s giving me face
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| Hold up, wait
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| Know that that Glock is equipped on my waist
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| Strap a dick to my gun like it’s female and gay
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| And I shoot like a backpain and make you go lay
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| Hold up
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| We finna do you like Fortnite 360 no-scope
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| Then I’m takin' the shit that you muhfuckin' own
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| Hit a lick on your straps, your possession, and soul
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| Hold up
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| Wait, don’t go talk all that shit then go hit up my phone like you tryna link
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| up, I’ma tell yo ass no
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| Or a yes but I’ll set yo ass up like a hoe
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| You need to do better when you send me a feature
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| 'Cuz I’m gettin' money, therefore I am getting meaner
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| Darby in this bitch, he almost gave your boy a seizure
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| Million-dollar beats, that’s all we makin' over here, yuh
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| Ref Simons I’m steppin, in New York like 9/11, kill you all like 9/11,
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| shout out Millie, Bobby Brown
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| To-to-totin' on that weapon
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| I’ma send you up to heaven
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| Have your whole life disconnected, if I’m rotten, you talk down
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| Uh, but shout out the hoes and my groupies, aye
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| She thought that my dick, that my toolie, aye
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| My pipe make her quiet like movies, aye
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| Dick have her sleep, you would thought she got roofied, aye
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| My team either Rotten or Uzi, aye
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| Some ghosts in this bitch is what you see, aye
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| I’m tryna get Teslas, that two-seat, aye
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| So I don’t do shit for free, don’t be stupid, aye
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| Bitch, skrt, aye, look look, look look, look look
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| Bitch, skrt, aye, look look, look look, look look |