| Dropping bodies, we ride out, they dropping tears
|
| Got dirty money like cleats on a soccer player
|
| I’ll buy an Opp pack and blow that shit in the air
|
| They talk about me, but I don’t care
|
| Engine in the back, the trunk is not in the rear
|
| With a bad bitch, the wind blowing through her hair
|
| Pop me a pill, just like Wheezy I’m Outta Here
|
| Battling all of my darkest fears
|
| My price make them scratch on they head, but they book me
|
| Stayed on my grind, ten years is what it took me
|
| Like I left the oven on, I’m burning cookies
|
| Say they gon' touch me, I wish that they would
|
| Walk with my chest out, I never get shook
|
| I work the pot like I know how to cook
|
| Hit up my ex any time 'cause I could
|
| Keep me a stick, I ain’t knocking on wood
|
| Never Rely on my look when I pop out
|
| I make a call, they gon' pull up and hop out
|
| Paint you, we draw for the choppa like chop chop
|
| Slide in the Vert, we gon' shoot out the drop top
|
| 50 round drum, turn his shirt to a crop top
|
| Like a track meet doing laps on the opp block
|
| Don’t beat my meat, I be fucking on thot thots
|
| Flooded out fully, no, this ain’t no stop watch
|
| My whip expensive, can’t go through a car wash
|
| Bought it in cash, took it right off the car lot
|
| Smoke out the pound, got some pressure to burn off
|
| Got money counters I don’t gotta turn off
|
| If checks are involved then you know I’m all for it
|
| Slide in the Aventador lifting my doors
|
| My shooter got a mop, but it’s not for the floor
|
| Your girl come around, make her walk on all fours
|
| Dropping bodies, we ride out, they dropping tears
|
| Got dirty money like cleats on a soccer player
|
| I’ll buy an Opp pack and blow that shit in the air
|
| They talk about me, but I don’t care
|
| Engine in the back, the trunk is not in the rear
|
| With a bad bitch, the wind blowing through her hair
|
| Pop me a pill, just like Wheezy I’m Outta Here
|
| Battling all of my darkness fears
|
| My price make them scratch on they head, but they book me
|
| Stayed on my grind, ten years it what it took me
|
| Like I left the oven on, I’m burning cookies
|
| Say they gon' touch me, I wish that they would
|
| Walk with my chest out, I never get shook
|
| I work the pot like I know how to cook
|
| Hit up my ex any time 'cause I could
|
| Keep me a stick, I ain’t knocking on wood |