| On another note, sippin' antidote |
| Smokin' Turtle smoke, that exotic dope |
| Hella stoked in the custom cloth |
| With the beanie rolled, boss mode |
| Buffs on, chain on, courtside, game on |
| Crab legs, Thanh Long, mob shit, theme song |
| Big place, chess move, small circle, nix fools |
| Figure-8's, old schools, making slappers on Pro Tools |
| Being broke is old news, used to sip on cold brews |
| Hate come with the plate, big house behind the gate |
| People hustles, real estate, real niggas, nothin' fake |
| Haters ain’t got no vertebrae, lingo too hard to interpret-ate |
| Cold world, sick and dummy |
| Folks get on that Fent' and turn to a zombie |
| My household wasn’t like the Cosbys |
| Grew up on spam, noodles, fried bologna |
| Used to sell that yayo, now my hands clean like Purell |
| Hammer and nail, dodgin' jail, graduated from that fishscale |
| Watch a snake, they’ll turn on you |
| It could be a snake in your crew |
| Don’t underestimate what they might do |
| Real ones, you only get a few |
| I grew up off of that mob |
| That mob, that mob, that mob, that mob |
| I come up under that mob |
| That mob, that mob, that mob, that mob |
| I grew up off of that mob |
| That mob, that mob, that mob, that mob |
| I come up under that mob |
| That mob, that mob, that mob (Uh), that mob |
| Soil child, I rarely smiled, I’ll pull your card, I was young and wild |
| Mob style, my profile, I’d never tell if I was on trial |
| Large sums, large guns, all hunds, no ones |
| Reposato, out the bottle, foldin' weed like a taco |
| First class flights, Bora Bora, beluga caviar, I’m a star |
| Used to rock crumbs in a mayonnaise jar |
| Now I make ventures to provide the store |
| Keratosis, Marley locs, swingin' Figure-8's and slingshots |
| Content, around the clock, bringin' in checks of TikTok |
| Colored weed, Avatar, animated like Pixar |
| Rideshare, Uber Black, they pick me up in a big car |
| Always perkin', I’m a people person |
| I be socializin' but I’m always workin' |
| Goin' Toby like LeVar Burton |
| Stay thumpered up, never know who lurkin' |
| Kingpin, team winnin', at a rooftop party goin' big lemon |
| Cherry gelato, Mango Moscato |
| No bustdown hoes, just clean women |
| Cali boy, I’ma scream it out, rep the West without a doubt |
| Fuck the fame, fuck the clout |
| Far as mob music, it’s been a drought |
| I grew up off of that mob |
| That mob, that mob, that mob, that mob |
| I come up under that mob |
| That mob, that mob, that mob, that mob |
| I grew up off of that mob |
| That mob, that mob, that mob, that mob |
| I come up under that mob |
| That mob, that mob, that mob, that mob, bitch |