| Tote my bag 'longside my rib
|
| I don’t eat pork, I don’t talk to no pigs
|
| I don’t trust niggas who abandon their kids
|
| You still servin' Alabama with mid
|
| I don’t hold work, I get off swift
|
| Can’t trust bitches, they talk too much
|
| Can’t afford this drip 'cause it cost too much
|
| Gotta cherish these racks 'cause I lost too much
|
| I was in the studio, fuck these sluts
|
| And I sold 400 bags this month
|
| Can’t let a bitch nigga hit my blunt
|
| BC the gang, we a unified front
|
| I’ma keep it real, girl, I love your touch
|
| And I’m in the crib rollin' Purple Punch
|
| She done felt the Lord and I only hit it once
|
| Coolin' in the pool in some Burberry trunks
|
| These the Diors, I ain’t rockin' no Dunks
|
| I ain’t go to class lil' nigga, I flunked
|
| And I got 90 bags in my trunk, under my spare
|
| Hit her from the back, pullin' her hair
|
| Rocks in my yard, nigga, beware
|
| Nigga can’t lack, gotta be aware
|
| I ain’t have shit, life ain’t fair
|
| Damn, baby girl lookin' good in them sweats
|
| I ain’t talkin' shoes but I’m runnin' to a check
|
| Told my girl sorry for the neglect
|
| She just wanna lay around the house and have sex
|
| Plug got a plug and he just hit me with a text
|
| He just sent three different packs for a test run
|
| Every day I serve, nigga, gotta keep a handgun
|
| And I got the weed, sell it in my mansion
|
| Everything plant-based, I done went vegan
|
| I done been down bad, know he freezin'
|
| But lil' girl sick as hell, cold, she was sneezin'
|
| Talked to the Lord and I told him I need Him
|
| Why you in the trap, not shoppin'? |
| Nigga, beat it
|
| Just like a keyboard, you can get deleted
|
| All my goals, nigga, I’ma exceed 'em
|
| And I got five straps in the two-seater
|
| And I got the queen with me like Latifah
|
| All my niggas pit bulls, nigga, I’ma breed 'em
|
| Yeah, yeah, and I got exotic comin' in every weekend
|
| Nigga, this motivation when I’m speakin'
|
| Niggas tellin' on their partner, that’s treason
|
| Lil' nigga mad at me, he ain’t eatin'
|
| He ain’t got hustle, lil' nigga, that’s the reason
|
| Tote my bag 'longside my rib
|
| I don’t eat pork, I don’t talk to no pigs
|
| I don’t trust niggas who abandon their kids
|
| You still servin' Alabama with mid
|
| I don’t hold work, I get off swift
|
| Can’t trust bitches, they talk too much
|
| Can’t afford this drip 'cause it cost too much
|
| Gotta cherish these racks 'cause I lost too much
|
| I was in the studio, fuck these sluts
|
| And I sold 400 bags this month
|
| Can’t let a bitch nigga hit my blunt
|
| BC the gang, we a unified front
|
| I’ma keep it real, girl, I love your touch
|
| And I’m in the crib rollin' Purple Punch
|
| She done felt the Lord and I only hit it once
|
| Coolin' in the pool in some Burberry trunks
|
| These the Diors, I ain’t rockin' no Dunks
|
| I ain’t go to class lil' nigga, I flunked |