| Yeah, good, MMG n***a
|
| Chain all VS,
|
| I ain’t with the BS.
|
| Catch me in the city riding hard through the BX.
|
| Skinny n***a, but I do it large like a 3X.
|
| The last n***a that tried to do me wrong,
|
| Uhm he checked.
|
| Right back to that money slinging O’s in PJ.
|
| I’m prolly catching milage while the pilot steady preject.
|
| Because we next and flex like…
|
| Like 90PX, working all night,
|
| No breaks or recess Vroom Vroom.
|
| Yeah, I know my car sound like a T-Rex,
|
| Bitch i’m 23 years old and I ain’t riding in a Prius.
|
| My cousin finished school,
|
| Can’t believe he graduated.
|
| I threw him 20 thousand dollars,
|
| Told his ass congratulations.
|
| Cause me, I wasn’t made for that s**t.
|
| But I could prolly hire him and who all paid for his s**t.
|
| And to all the hoes that was dissing,
|
| I prayed to God that you see me.
|
| I’m on the yacht getting hella high,
|
| Smoking good, that seaweed
|
| Bad b***h and her chacha,
|
| Grabbing on her chee chees.
|
| Million dollars bills on my email.
|
| You mad ass hell you ain’t cc’d
|
| Chain all VS,
|
| B***h you know it’s BS.
|
| Boy I run my city
|
| End of story, n***a PS.
|
| All white maybach,
|
| Green Bay they pack.
|
| Y’all n***as was slackin.
|
| Yeah, but i’m all nice new track.
|
| And they say life’s a game of chess
|
| You can play checkers all on my jacket,
|
| Because it Donny Ya and rhymes away on all you pig rappers.
|
| I say yeah n***a, I murder that.
|
| Pen em ear and serve em back.
|
| N***as say they want beef,
|
| Well well the f**ks my burgers at.
|
| I got white, was serving that.
|
| I been to jail, ain’t going back.
|
| I alley-ooped your b***h off that backboard.
|
| She throw it back,
|
| I slammed off in the p***y.
|
| Black Griffin’s your hoe n***a.
|
| Maybach with Ricky Ross, my chain rock like I know Jigga.
|
| That’s cause I do hoe,
|
| Shout out to my new hoe.
|
| That p***y pink like Nuvo.
|
| And I dogged that, Khujo.
|
| N***as want talk,
|
| What they gone say.
|
| I hit the pedal til that mutha f***a break.
|
| Freaky b***hes love the money I make,
|
| And to live like this
|
| You mutha f***as gotta pay.
|
| So let that s**t burn,
|
| Let that s**t burn,
|
| Let that s**t burn,
|
| Let that s**t burn.
|
| Gasoline.
|
| The roof on fire, i’m only gettin’higher.
|
| 50 racks all in my pocket, all the bottles
|
| I’ma let that s**t burn
|
| B***h, I had one shot of Na blunt.
|
| Ridin’til the wheels fell off and they tore it.
|
| I got green on top of green
|
| Diamonds lookin’like I grew it.
|
| D-Town, the hood behind me like a King Cobra
|
| Burn, b***h.
|
| I let it burn b***h.
|
| My money straighter than a mother f***in'perm bitch.
|
| No navigation, you can see that is my turn s**t.
|
| Shorty give me all that brain,
|
| And still ain’t never learn s**t.
|
| Oh that;s your girl,
|
| Damn n***a you ain’t learn s**t.
|
| She naked in my studio,
|
| I’m on that Howard Stern s**t.
|
| Yep, I swear that Mack 10 is barbell.
|
| Finally famous, the cartel.
|
| Hit your girl in my whip and now that p***y got that new car smell
|
| Same s**t, different day.
|
| I ain’t broke no more,
|
| It’s a different day.
|
| Don’t turn me down, I got s**t to say
|
| My purp strong like it’s lifting weights.
|
| It Sean Don, sippin’Chandon.
|
| I got a bad b***h with them pom poms.
|
| My rolly don’t tick tock,
|
| You s**t sound like a time bomb.
|
| BOOOM…
|
| Little b***h.
|
| N***as want talk,
|
| What they gone say.
|
| I hit the pedal til that mutha f***a break.
|
| Freaky b***hes love the money I make.
|
| And to live like this you mutha f***kas gotta pay, so let that s**t burn.
|
| Let that s**t burn,
|
| Let that s**t burn,
|
| Let that s**t burn.
|
| Gasoline.
|
| The roof on fire,
|
| I’m only gettin’higher.
|
| 50 racks all in my pocket, all the bottles.
|
| I’ma let that s**t burn |