| I been drankin, drankin |
| Thinkin' 'bout the days when I was bankin', bankin' |
| Makin' money all day it was stankin', filthy |
| Baby I was stacking paper had these haters lookin at me they still wanna kill me |
| I’m strapped up |
| You and your people fin tah get clapped up |
| Please don’t make me act up |
| You niggas are weirdos outta my mind |
| But I see clear though |
| Whispers I can hear those stomping my tempo in steel toes |
| Locked in this bitch with lioness |
| Britney and Bryon, bitch |
| Dawg, you finna love it |
| I’m the scientist, the zionist |
| He’s splitting 'em in many pieces this is |
| Iron sides fiber and its higher vibes |
| They fin tah go viral, viral |
| I been drankin, drankin |
| Thinkin' 'bout the days when I was bankin', bankin' |
| Makin' money all day it was stankin', filthy |
| Baby I was stacking paper had these haters lookin at me they still wanna kill me |
| They better be ready we coming for murder |
| We coming to get em and I know the difference |
| And Water and venom |
| I’m giving 'em 16 shots, we still sendin' 'em |
| Better watch out |
| Before I pull my Glock out, Glock out |
| They runnin' up on me block |
| Imma pop up where we pop out |
| Yeah, nigga keep ah file on you |
| Mad, cause I’m styling on you |
| Dad, get the bag the Familia |
| Little bizzy wilding on you |
| Bone, bone, give the flag with the blicky |
| These niggas fingers get sticky |
| Goldie in prison he 2026 we miss him |
| Bloodline harmony, that blood that pump through the vein to the ones thats wit |
| me |
| And the ones that the grew up fuckin' with |
| Little Lay make sure that bitch don’t hit me |
| These niggas don’t think like they be fifty or sixty |
| They ready to die but big Willie forgot the wheel |
| This is bizzy |
| I been drankin, drankin |
| Thinkin' 'bout the days when I was bankin', bankin' |
| Makin' money all day it was stankin', filthy |
| Baby I was stacking paper had these haters lookin at me they still wanna kill me |
| I been drankin, drankin |
| Thinkin' 'bout the days when I was bankin', bankin' |
| Makin' money all day it was stankin', filthy |
| Baby I was stacking paper had these haters lookin at me they still wanna kill me |
| I’m strapped up |
| You and your people fin tah get clapped up |
| Please don’t make me act up |
| You niggas are weirdos outta my mind |
| But I see clear though |
| Whispers I can hear those stomping my tempo in steel toes |