| I just took a test, it’s sounding like my shit go stupid
|
| Lil bitch, I got like 10 percent more left on my to-do list
|
| I rolled by with my old car, it’s a coup, his name is Lucas
|
| Mimosa with my old girl, frag grenade, that pussy boomin'
|
| I took that flight and got a big bag, man this shit is so taxin'
|
| I set goals then beat it like Jackson
|
| Black on black, my shirt from PacSun
|
| You not fye, your homie just gassin'
|
| Phone, going through my IG top request
|
| These hoes trippin' like banana peels are raining up and down the road, ah
|
| Pussy bald like Joe Rogan
|
| Take her phone away
|
| That bitch tryna get photos
|
| Driving me loco
|
| Tippin on 44s
|
| Back to the bathroom (Ayyyy)
|
| Permanent racks
|
| I’m getting my plaques
|
| I’m paying the tax
|
| Your pocket is lighter so we’ll never match
|
| No square in my circle
|
| No time for all that
|
| I’m ridin' 'round the city with the mothafuckin' bros, yeah
|
| Driving till the sun is up, that’s how it tends to go, yeah
|
| Whippin' cutlass, causing ruckus
|
| But I’m on that visa
|
| Me not fucking with you boys
|
| You actin' like a diva
|
| I’m cuttin' that track and I’m rapping
|
| And getting that bag but I’m missin' that terminal 3
|
| I just quit the pack and the stoges
|
| But if he want the smoke, he could get it like Bella Hadid
|
| I don’t do that violence but come at me crazy
|
| I’ll Michael B Jordan yo ass (I promise)
|
| My biggest motivation is my dad and some kid saying that shit was trash
|
| I count it, I count it, I count it
|
| Like I cannot sleep
|
| And I’m counting the sheeps on my bed
|
| I miss when the shit I was scared of was eating the seeds and the tree that
|
| would grow on my head
|
| I ain’t seen the fam in a couple of months
|
| It’s been 22 months that shit’s almost 2 years
|
| I promise that when I come back to Jakarta
|
| That y’all gon' be proud of the shit that I built
|
| My neck is a mortgage
|
| She got an iPhone but don’t got no storage
|
| 550k for the DP
|
| The crib is 4 milli
|
| I’m never gon' drive in no Porsche
|
| Maybe a Tes-la
|
| Ain’t got no guns but the wheels automatic
|
| Not boutta drop no bands for no Lambos
|
| The shit is too fast just to sit in some traffic (Ayy, bitch)
|
| Uh
|
| How the fuck you hate and resent me for doing and trying my best, uh
|
| I don’t remember your birthday but I know my billing address, uh
|
| Que sera sera, lil bitch
|
| Maybe this life is not fun as you think
|
| I never look at my phone when it ring
|
| I’m ridin' 'round the city with the mothafuckin' bros, yeah
|
| Driving till the sun is up, that’s how it tends to go, yeah
|
| Whippin' cutlass, causing ruckus
|
| But I’m on that visa
|
| Me not fucking with you boys
|
| You actin' like a diva
|
| I’m ridin' 'round the city with the motherfuckin' bros, yeah
|
| Driving till the sun is up, that’s how it tends to go, yeah
|
| Whippin' cutlass, causing ruckus
|
| But I’m on that visa
|
| Me not fucking with you boys
|
| You actin' like a diva |