| Shay, rest in peace
|
| Ha, ha, ha, ha
|
| Kill, kill, kill, kill
|
| Kill, kill, kill, kill
|
| Kill, kill, kill, kill
|
| Just Blaze
|
| As we proceed, to give you what you need
|
| It’s Griselda bomb, I tried to tell you all
|
| Ayo, you lookin' at my jewels, don’t even risk it (Don't even risk it, ah)
|
| My mechanic be sniffin' with the wrenches (With the wrenches, sniff)
|
| In the mess hall, I got to listen (I got to listen)
|
| First day home, I got to whippin' (I got to whippin', whip)
|
| My country bitch think she from Memphis (She from Memphis)
|
| She could suck dick in the Olympics (In the Olympics, ah)
|
| Everyday, I wake up, I gotta get it (I gotta get it)
|
| My nigga dome shot shit, he be wiggin' (Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom,
|
| boom, boom, he be wiggin')
|
| How you been FLYGOD? |
| I been livin' (I been livin')
|
| Pollo Loco with the chicken (With the chicken)
|
| Even Nino Brown started snitchin' (Started snitchin', ah)
|
| Big four pound with the extension (Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom,
|
| boom, the extension)
|
| Move like Chef Dred in the kitchen (In the kitchen, ah)
|
| You’d rather be dead than go against us (Than go against)
|
| My nigga dopeboy, he be whoopin' (He be whoopin')
|
| My nigga TF, he be Crippin' (Yo, Crippin')
|
| Boss bitch, yeah, I’m hella bomb (Hella bomb)
|
| Money phone ringin' like a telethon (Brr)
|
| I came in the game with my weapons drawn (Uh huh)
|
| Necks what I’m steppin' on (What's up?), hated, but respected on (Come on)
|
| Heavy on the weight (Weight), heavy on the cake
|
| Iced out the same chains that Harriet escaped (Uh huh)
|
| Word to all the millions and risks that we takes (Uh huh)
|
| The Liberace estates (What else?), Dolce Gabbana drapes, what (Woo)
|
| I’m a beauty, but a beast on the track (Uh huh)
|
| Don’t confuse this with my booty, this the East on my back (What)
|
| You upset yet? |
| Diamond chain on that wet wet (Uh huh)
|
| You can slide, bitch, I jet set, I’m gettin' pampered like the bed wet (Come on)
|
| Niggas hand it to my like the nail tech (Uh huh)
|
| Passin' bitches like a test, but this ain’t no LSAT, what
|
| You bitches better be scared if I level up (Level up)
|
| No, elevators, bitch (Look), step it up
|
| Standin' on the furniture, I told the bottle girl, «Bitch, pass the Ace»
|
| (Bring me that Ace, bitch)
|
| I popped the cork, poured the whole bottle for homies passed away
|
| Wrap the Wraith, Killa Bee yellow with the matchin' skates
|
| Still got racks in the safe, a half a letter stashed away (Ha)
|
| Wrapped a half a cake in saran wrap and a maskin' tape
|
| Wrap the surplus around rappers, I probably lapped them eighty times
|
| Keep the MAC on waist, I don’t waste time
|
| Boy, you get the drum work from the Griselda Records basket case (Brr)
|
| They say they richer than Machine, that’s like a slap in face
|
| The problem is I’m gettin' more money and at a faster pace (Hahaha)
|
| Look, I ain’t human, I’m an alien, homie
|
| I just came back from space, came to outrap the greats (Talk to 'em)
|
| Trust me, I got the bread to get a nigga whacked today
|
| They bring me back your head, don’t matter how much cash it take
|
| We used to traffic base, now the trap forty racks a day
|
| It’s safe to say we got a boomin' system, I’m Masta Ace (Ha)
|
| The shooter sixteen, throttle in his VLONE hoodie
|
| Nigga look at me wrong, then he uppin' this chrome for me (Boom, boom, boom,
|
| boom, boom, boom, boom, boom)
|
| I got rich on my own, don’t need a nigga to loan money (Uh uh)
|
| Ain’t signin' no more contracts unless it’s Mahomes money (Woo)
|
| Machine, bitch
|
| RIP to rappers I buried, left the trap and then married
|
| I won a ring for every team I was on, like Vinatieri
|
| I got the four-door too (Uh huh), so many whips, it’s gettin' scary (Uh huh)
|
| Book a photoshoot, y’all 'bout to need pics for obituaries
|
| The GxF Rebels, any static, nigga, we accept
|
| Y’all niggas should be in check, or BSF’ll be at necks
|
| When I say the beef lit, I don’t mean a tweet or text (I don’t mean that)
|
| Shooters, I send three, no less, and let 'em take the CLS
|
| Beef is I know where your people stay (I know), I don’t need to flex (I don’t)
|
| But when you least expect it, I send a cleanup crew to eat your dress (Brr)
|
| Beef is a forever thing, careful when you speakin' threats
|
| I achieved success and still can’t even rest (Ah)
|
| Took this street shit corporate, a dab of it, I just balanced it
|
| Authentic, all this G shit I’m talkin', they never challenge it
|
| Where I’m from, we ignorant, graduatin' average
|
| Fuck that, if you can flip money, then you talented
|
| Man, y’all lost, I could be payin' y’all off (Payin' off)
|
| But I don’t trip, 'cause y’all niggas broke and y’all soft (Pussy)
|
| Think I’m playin', y’all wrong, I’m frontin' when the bands all gone
|
| Put a yellow band on my arm like I’m Lance Armstrong, ah |