| Ayo, I’m in Salvatore makin' Salaat, Bentayga in three flavors
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| Shoot the nigga now, we’ll speak later (Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom,
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| boom, boom, boom, boom)
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| Up in Whitney, got the MAC with me
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| Hid behind the Warhol, dip to Bergdorf, shot up the whole store (Brr)
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| Cherry fifty-seven, in the 'Bach learnin' lessons (Skrrt)
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| Crack ain’t dry yet, it be ready in a second (Ah)
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| Forty chains on, halo, I’m a god, nigga
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| Fear of God jogger rockin', nigga, I don’t even jog
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| Hangin' out the Wagen sunroof, pick a nigga off (Brr)
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| The Mille with the chill bezel (Ah)
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| All my foreigns red, it make me feel special
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| Banana peel AK, I’m lookin' real extra (Doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot,
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| doot, doot)
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| With the top keys, the money green Teslas (Skrrt)
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| Told Virgil write «Brick» on my brick (Write «Brick» on my brick)
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| Write «Brick» on my brick
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| Told Virgil write «Brick» on my brick
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| Ayo, Amiris filled with cash, I’m in the fashion district (Ah)
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| Shoot your momma house just for a half a bicken (Doot, doot, doot, doot, doot,
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| doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot)
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| All my niggas dealin', all my niggas killin' (Brr)
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| Them niggas tried to test me, now them niggas missin' (Ah)
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| Meal quarters, I’m still awesome
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| Water whip coke, I still Voss it, rosé out the faucet
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| Ah, tell Virgil write «Brick» on my brick
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| Look, lil' brodie let off his thirty, he ain’t even flinch (Yeah)
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| Caught the body, dipped to the A, nobody seen him since (He got lost)
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| Five-sixty Benz and I ain’t need the tints (Vroom)
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| My weakest scent cost more than your mama need for rent (Hahaha)
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| That’s just one zip, the drum rip, leave you rinsed (Rrah)
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| Hide the body for a week and it’s gon' leave a stench (You smell that?)
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| Rappers come to my city, they gon' need consent (You need a pass, nigga)
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| 'Cause we already know you pussy, nigga, we convinced (Hah)
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| I told Virgil write «Brick» on my brick (Hah)
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| The nicest with this shit, ain’t write this, I just spit (Woo)
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| White bitch on my dick, this ice drip on my fist
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| No shoe deal, but look at all this Nike shit that I get (Hahaha, yeah)
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| On Doat Street, it’s white shit that I pitch
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| Two in the morning, on the corner, night shift with my blick (I got it all)
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| No soda in this off-white shit that I whip (Hah)
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| I’m rich, put all this Off-White shit on my bitch (Yeah, haha)
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| So if it’s smoke, we ain’t even askin' (Uh-huh)
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| We just pullin' up and somebody gon' see a casket (Boom boom boom)
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| Hall N Nash and Benny like James Worthy, Kareem and Magic (Yeah)
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| Every time Griselda drop, this shit gon' be a classic (You know what’s up)
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| Yo, I gave cocaine to users, and okays to shooters (I did)
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| I’m cocky, vintage Versace with the stone face Medusas
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| Sopranos, and Margianos, we got gold-plated Rugers
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| This pistol’ll backflip you and blow your whole frame to Pluto (Brr)
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| Got all eyes on us, can we chill? |
| Eatin' with snakes’ll probably get him killed
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| 'Cause trust me, every family had a Henry Hill (What else?)
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| And every man don’t got a Benny skill (Nah)
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| When you this dope, it take least 50 mil' just to sit me still (Ah)
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| Light ten on my whip, white bitch on my dick
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| Right wrist when I whip, that white brick on my brick
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| Runway Margiela, that type shit on my bitch
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| Butterflies and spikes, that type shit on my kicks
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| These rappers wanna be trendy (Nah), they hoes wanna be friendly
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| But never, she wear Forever 21 like it’s Fendi (Punk bitch)
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| I told that bitch it’s Givenchy, she pronounce it «Givinchy»
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| She wanna fuck me and run through all my accounts 'til they empty
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| What would ChineGun do? |
| I’m still thinkin' militant
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| Old paraphernalia layin' around, I got rid of it (That's out of here)
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| Then settled all my differences (I did)
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| I really had a chicken with a tree stamp like I stepped on it with a Timberland
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| The Butcher, nigga (Ah) |