| Teeth deep in disbelief | 
| A bunch of people peep the pose | 
| We got prose | 
| We got cons on the road | 
| On patrol, We leave heater bombs on they toes | 
| Welcome to the village where my river runs Nia Long | 
| High ceilings, bong ripping, white feeling | 
| Technicians, hype dealings | 
| I cracked my window seal in | 
| She cracked that wishing pill in | 
| I swear this shit feel like Jesse Jackson with a pipe | 
| Or Lisa on a hike mixed with Rosa on a bike | 
| Until they pull me over, flying saucers of blue lights | 
| We got offers, we got offers, man | 
| Please step off the ice | 
| I swear a giant cup of Shut The Fuck Up do you right | 
| You might even go live it, you know nigga your life | 
| That’s what I told the critic when he asked me bout specifics | 
| Zulu lifted, you ain’t gifted | 
| My KeKe Palmer hold the karma in her hands sifted | 
| Well what do you know? | 
| A couple of more incredible hoes | 
| Address them as such cause they don’t know much | 
| I tried to put them on but they don’t know hush | 
| These queens, they just know blush | 
| Supreme 'til I stick my solar system in the middle of they little | 
| I-don't-think-you-hear-me really soggy dreams | 
| Now we up all night like some coffee fiends | 
| I swear the time’s always right unless I’m counting things | 
| But see I’m from a place where they got poplar trees, gumming in those taller | 
| things so you have to follow me | 
| And everywhere we go, we find some new Britneys and Ashley Nicoles | 
| And everywhere we go, we find some new Britneys and Ashley Nicoles | 
| And everywhere we go, I bet we find some new Britneys and Ashley Nicoles | 
| And everywhere we go, we still finding new Britneys and Ashley Nicoles | 
| Pleasure myself to images of wealth | 
| Ain’t it funny how a 100 look like sex? | 
| My dick in two vaginas, 100 dollars worth of mess | 
| Slick and slimy, get behind me while I get beside myself | 
| I promise the pressure is enormous | 
| So much so that niggas forget what the point is until the barrels pointed like | 
| it was at me and moms on that Thomasville morning | 
| Rest in peace Richard Lee, I cried when they played that organ | 
| But, anyway—this for my pops in that Vote Lee Wise T-shirt, chillin' on the | 
| couch | 
| Shake his head at the news and tell me what life’s about | 
| Now it’s liquor in his juice, the knowledge keep coming out | 
| Probably cause he done seen the shit that I’m worried bout | 
| Probably cause he done dreamed the shit that I’m dreaming now | 
| So you fuck niggas, keep my name out your mouth | 
| And make room for my dick when the beat drop | 
| And everywhere we go, we find some new Britneys and Ashley Nicoles | 
| And everywhere we go, we find some new Britneys and Ashley Nicoles | 
| And everywhere we go, I bet we find some new Britneys and Ashley Nicoles | 
| And everywhere we go, we still finding new Britneys and Ashley Nicoles | 
| Now bring it back baby, throw it back, throw it back, bring it back while I eat | 
| it from the back baby |