| Look at how I’m riding in my bucket, I be cooling
|
| 95 degrees, no A/C, but I be cooling
|
| No exaggeration, fucking bitches, I be doing
|
| My pockets hella empty, but these bitches steady choosing
|
| To this pimping, I’m a student, I need a job
|
| This rap ain’t paying bills, okay, blame it on Rashad
|
| I get all in my feelings gather, blame it all on God
|
| But see that ain’t the lesson that was taught up from my mom
|
| I be that Pretty Nigga Flacko — fuck that shit, fuck that bitch
|
| See that shit don’t make no sense, he ain’t even gotta lisp
|
| It’s so many fuck rappers, I can’t even make a diss
|
| It’s so many fuck niggas, ain’t no need to make a list
|
| And tell my momma I’ll be straight, all I need is dutches
|
| Swishers, hide my insecurity, crowded by a bunch of niggas
|
| They just don’t be hearing me, you gon' start comparing me
|
| Diamond in the rough, suck my dick, you’ll see the clarity
|
| Later I won’t, won’t be this same mothafucka
|
| As soon as I get on, one insane mothafucka
|
| I guess all them concussions, rattled brain mothafucka
|
| And we don’t wanna hear that weak shit, but you love it
|
| I be high all in public, see sobriety’s a struggle
|
| They pay they bills hating, see, denying me’s a hustle
|
| I been drinking, I been drinking
|
| See the fly in me, I’m buzzing (That weak shit)
|
| Look at how I’m riding in my bucket, I be cooling
|
| 95 degrees, no A/C, but I be cooling
|
| No exaggeration, fucking bitches, I be doing
|
| My pockets hella empty, but these bitches steady choosing |