Bitches, rappers, rappers, bitches
Way yall talkin on Twitter
Lil boy, I cant tell the difference
Purple herb in my Swisher
Yeah, lil Aahj is my witness
Pull up, engine so vicious
That seven digits the mission, listen
60 FPS, these other rappers movin slo-mo
I was broke as shit and now Im drippin in some Polo
I dont pay for promo
I stay on the low-low
Im the kid who run the game, call it Miyamoto
Bitch, Im Heaven-sent, this is just my genesis
Marble floor my residence, pocket full of presidents
My money so thick that I cannot fold the shit
Talkin all that shit on Twitter, lil bitch, kindly hold my dick
Yeah, Im gettin to the bag, watch me double park the whip
My lil shawty break it down roll it up and spark the shit
You gon respect me as a lyricist
I aint just a haircut
I aint just a face tat
Im sendin shots at everyone
Keep all that designer, I rock Polo and Tommy
Rollin up my marijuana while she give me the sloppy
And all you trash ass SoundCloud rappers, I surpassed you
Pull up in the Aston, Im blowin past you
You might see me do the dash, blowin gas out the sunroof
Lil bitch, Im so great, I cant relate to not a one of you
Cant nobody keep me down or hold me from nothin
If I want it, Ima get it, man, it aint no discussion
As of lately, I been tryna write a rap with some substance
I was sick and tired of tryna be somebody I wasnt
And I aint in this for a check, I do this shit cause I love it
You know I wont stop at nothin
I take that feeling and trust it, yeah
How you rock designer, but you look like a clown?
How I pull up to your city and I shut the shit down?
Im gettin paper, I just copped a Mercedes, Ill catch you later
Step up out the scraper, ballin like a Laker in some purple Bapestas
Ooh, I think Im feelin myself
Shawty dice that pineapple that replenish my health
Bitch its lit, find me with my clique
Smokin out a zip
Guy Fieri with the sauce, Paul Walker with the whip, bitch
I hate flexin but I cant help it
Droptop burnt out on the pavement
Dope rolled, in some Polo
Let the champagne flow, throwin C-notes, yeah
Backwoods rolled, vacay for the weekend
Couple girls gettin high in the deep end
You want to, you should come through
Got the champagne flutes and the orange juice, yeah-yeah