| I was 'bout to hit a ho I used to hump on, no cap |
| 'Til I seen her on the 'Gram kissin' on her man |
| I can't fuck with her because I heard he was a fag |
| You can't fuck with me 'cause you don't never get no bands, now listen |
| No funny shit, huh |
| I'd pull up on they block with a hundred clips, huh |
| Prayin' to my guy, I'm in love with living |
| I say peace to the guys 'til I'm done and finished, huh, now listen |
| H, I, J, K, L, M, N, O, move the P's |
| Q, R, S, T, bright lights, no UB |
| Winnin' on my exes, that's why I need Z's (Listen) |
| One, two, three, four, big 5 |
| Seven, eight, nine, ten, I'd never switch sides |
| Uh, you don't get no money, huh, I got the big kind |
| Huh, yeah, racks on racks, I'm a rich guy |
| Huh, bullets in the Trackhawk, same size as a Faygo |
| Drop an opp, soon as him get high, he a potato |
| In the kitchen whippin' over the stove, apron and ladle |
| Catch a nigga fresh as hell, I get blood on his labels, now listen |
| Have my— big Blood at my label |
| Huh, Sada know a nigga keep on wildin' with that paper |
| While I'm stylin', I just might up me a rifle on a hater |
| I can't lie, I got the rights to fuck a bad bitch on the table |
| I can't lie, I got the ice to make a bad bitch wanna date me |
| I can't lie, I got the lights to make a bad bitch relocate |
| I can't lie, I'm the type to make a bad bitch go brazy, now listen |
| I'm the GOAT, she gon' give me all her throat |
| Pull up in foreigns that I bought off dope, make her drive the boat |
| Cuz trippin' with the extra chicken, he gon' send a loc' |
| Blood trippin' with the extra women, pimpin' on the road, listen |
| Westly Snipes, got a blade for a bitch |
| Huh, play it how you want to, I got game for a bitch |
| Send her home, I'd game for a bitch |
| Get to actin' like you goofy, I make gang throw a fit |
| Tell them niggas set up shop and bust the bricks open |
| Huh, I ain't fuckin' with your plug, I hit a lick on it |
| Huh, tell his ass to watch his temper, I got stick on me |
| Quan Johnson came with freaky man, he ain't Rich Homie, listen |
| Like I said, I'm some motherfuckin' rich guy, huh |
| Gave the glizzy Red Bull and made the blick fly, shit |
| Huh, get him deep fried |
| Huh, put some grease on his head by the street sign |
| Where your people at? |
| Huh, got the word for they heads, I be preachin' that |
| Put a bird on they ass, make the wings detach |
| Hit the birds on they ass like where you sleepin' at, huh |
| Then swerve |
| OG tall as hell like we sittin' on tinker |
| In the field kickin' shit like soccer with no shin guard |
| Whole zip, huh, ready for sale, it's been hard |
| Huh, top side, serve a split lopside |
| Trap trappin' outside, put his big homie on the pound sign |
| Order up, another fifty 'bows on my downtime |
| Beggin'-ass hoes in the club the only downside, huh |
| To this turnt shit, watch who you work with |
| These niggas be workin', huh, I'm for certain he snitchin' |
| These bitches worthless, I be hurtin' they feelings |
| That young nigga from that way way who earned him some millions, huh, dooh |
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