| Aight, yeah
|
| I think I be countin' bread too much
|
| Yeah (Yeah), look, haha
|
| I think I be countin' bread too much
|
| Bambo choppas make him double dutch, haha
|
| I just got here, what the fuck is up? |
| Yeah
|
| Bitch, what’s popping? |
| Let’s roll up a blunt, yeah
|
| Niggas hatin', but just chase a bag
|
| Represent the Puerto Rican flag, haha
|
| Fuck your daughter, I make your shorty gag, ha
|
| I hit Gucci, never check a tag
|
| I love money, that’s a fact, uh-huh, haha
|
| She a baddie, make it clap, uh-huh, yeah
|
| Bitch, I’m 'bout it, I don’t act, uh, uh, yeah
|
| Pistol make him heart attack, uh, uh
|
| I’ve been rockin' Yves Saint Laurent, yeah
|
| Can’t pronounce it, always say it wrong, yeah
|
| Call me Trap, I’m smokin' on some strong, yeah
|
| Flip a pack, I got the birdies gone, huh, ayy
|
| Bitch, I get them bands, uh
|
| I get—, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh
|
| I count dividends, yeah, mm, yeah
|
| You can’t see my lands, uh
|
| I see through the glass, uh
|
| You see through the fence, uh, shit, uh
|
| Niggas on defense
|
| Why you so defensive? |
| (Bitch)
|
| But you just offensive (What?)
|
| I just had to throw the VVS' on my necklace
|
| Ask the other opps, you pussy boys do not wanna test us, yeah
|
| Bitch, Trap |