You did your thing with this bitch, Hokatiwi, swear to God
Phew, ayy
(It’s Hokatiwi)
Phew, ayy
Ayy, ayy, ShittyBoyz
.223s knock the dealer’s name off your license plate
I’ma put it in the basket every time I isolate
When you really winning, it be hard for them to hide the hate
Widebody, I’ma drop a hundred if the side get scraped
Contaminated pop, I might turn into a fucking mutant
Scam star, I don’t sell crack, I make puncher music (Scam star)
Showboat, bitch, I can never ever underdo it
P90, take the muzzle off, it sound like thunder booming
Ski mask rocker, I ain’t never been a robber though
I just pull it down, jam the chip, then I gotta go (I’m out of here)
2016, probably had a ham on the phone (Yeah)
Summer 2020, was in Cali’, out there copping ‘bows
I was tripping, asked the plug, do he take EDD?
Talking ’bout valid, never had a green CVV (Lame)
Eating off the self-scan, I ain’t talking EBT
It ain’t no selection, told the clerk he gotta Fiji me
Name brand everything, you know the water gotta match
Put my dick in your bitch mouth and told her swallow that
Finna start acting bougie, thousand for a follow back
Big Russian Cream, nah, I don’t do the frontos, Jack
Got the magic touch like Mister Miyagi
Real hustler, shit up in my blood, that shit in my body
Lil’ candy apple Faygo, finna hit it with some Wocky
If I call the mafia, they’ll pull up tripping with some Tommies
Bro bloated, if the telly hitting, Whip-Its in the lobby
Wave starter, not wave rider, dripping like tsunami
Real punch God ’cause with these bitches, I’m so godly (Punch God)
7.62s hit his dreads, them bitches look like Takis
So I guess he a hothead
Top one or three, I ain’t satisfied with top ten
It was just a cream soda, how the fuck the pop red? (How the fuck?)
Unky said he gon’ come back or he gon’ drop dead
Called Dorien, he told me pull up on the boulevard
Now I’m shooting east too hot, trunk full of cards
I don’t know what y’all do to opps, but we bully ours
Real Cookies pack, you can smell it when the Cookie spark (Real Cookie)
Chrome Heart hoodie, bitch, don’t start with me (Chrome Heart)
Four of Keisha got me smacked like a car hit me
Teacher seen me out like, “You a star, Jimmy” (You a star)
But back in school, you ain’t never see the smart in me (I swear to God)
We six deep with six chopsticks like it’s TDM (Hitmen)
Know some real east side killers repping VDM (Van Dyke)
Two forty plus? That’s a ShittyBoyz BPM
The old me always know that one day I’d see me ten (Yeah)
Please don’t make me talk about nine
Real roadrunner, getting active on a Route 9
No cap, I-75, heading south now
Stan hopping out the tinted Jeep with the pow-pow
Boy, you better crouch and take cover
Oh, her credit good? Like, shit, I’m ’bout to fake love her
Donny Bands pulling up from deep, he got a Dame jumper (That’s my dog)
It’s a new glitch, bitch, I’m finna have a great summer
Shooting from the city down to Indi’ like I’m Edmond Sumner
Doo-doo-doo-doo, that’s the weapon stutter
No equities with all this money, go invest in something
Finna turn it up, gang and them made me press the button
You was at the mall for ten hours and you left with nothing (Lame)
Twenty-five for the verse, the adlibs an extra hundred
All off the top, I ain’t have to use a pen for nothing (Off-top)
When I was broke, we was fam, why you acting jealous, cousin? (Why?)
This a 2021, you do not wanna race
Yeezy 350s, wear ’em loose, I don’t want ’em laced
My bitch talking ’bout, “Pass the ‘Wood,” I just want her face (I can’t)
Shaq talking ’bout, “Buy a zip,” I just want an eighth (Come on, Shaq)
Getting off, this ain’t nothing new, been doing this forever (Forever)
It’s a sunny day, walk up in the strip and switch the weather
Full court all year, you can catch us with the pressure
Put my bitch in Triple S, she my lil’ stepper
Six figure whip, bitch, the longsleeve a Caddy truck
She gon’ lose count if she ever try to add me up
BabyTron broke this and that, that shit crack me up
You just post pics with that strap, you ain’t actually tough
Fans see me out, said, “You was tripping on that Yachty album”
He tried to run away, silly wabbit, point a shotty at him
It’s his fault we had to body bag him
They wouldn’t run it up if you threw a fucking joggy at ’em (Lame)
Where I’m at? Probably card cracking
Shooter getting shots in before the coach start practice
I ain’t see the plug in a minute, like, “Why you start taxing?” (Why?)
Lil’ bitch couldn’t last one round like March Madness
Ha-ha, yeah (Huh, ayy)
Ayy
Y’all can’t fuck with me
This is nothing new though
Come on now
Ayy
Ayy
Ayy
Ayy
Ayy, ayy, ShittyBoyz
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