(Marc Boomin, we miss you) I’m sick, she taking to me like that Ayy
I’ma get the money, let you niggas have the hoes Just dropped a six, in an hour I got a show I can smell the pussy nigga, it be reeking off they clothes I’m wearing Off-White, forgot I bought it, I was blown Seven thousand all dubs, ’bout to spend it on clothes Off juice every day, I can’t sleep without a pole Go get you some money, that other shit getting old Trying to play it like it’s sweet, I had shit getting bold He just got two bricks, he don’t really know a load Sipping cream sodas, I ain’t fucking with Patrón Her head too good, got me changing up my tone I sell anything but my motherfucking soul On the road with some fire, I don’t wanna go home Back in high school, I was trying to touch in [?] I got a zip and a Glock in my motherfucking coat I just put a deuce of Wock’ in this little 24
I ain’t focused on these hoes, you won’t ever really win These bitches do whatever for some petty ass revenge I’ma kick it with my self, everybody acts weird Bitch I drink lean, not no motherfucking beer ‘Bout to put solitaires in my motherfucking ear Old hoes on my line, heard I’m ’bout to sign a deal I get her gone for real as soon as he gets a seal We gon’ hold that chopper when shit gets real Kick it with the clerk, I’m trying to work, let’s cut a deal The number on the blows ’bout to bang out a zero Bitch, I hit the set and go to Saks for my apparel I ain’t into saving hoes, you betrying to be the hero My dawg off an eight, I’m just hoping he alive Turned myself into a boss, can’t no bitch hurt my pride Your nigga ain’t a shooter, he can’t make it to Belle Isle It be looking like a circus when your whole gang around