Worry 'bout a ho, nigga
Oh, yeah (Hey)
I ain't ever worried 'bout a ho, nigga
Run up, then we shoot this shit like Cole Bennett
Got a Goyard bag full of rolls in it
Yeah, we 'bout it, 'bout it, like No Limit (Look, ayy, say)
I'ma hit the stain, then split it, yeah
Fuck a .30, yeah we totin' big shit, yeah
Talk behind my back, yeah, that's that bitch shit, yeah
I'ma let it squeeze 'til it click-click, yeah
Yeah, I'ma let it squeeze 'til it click-click
Leave a nigga cryin' like a chick flick (Ayy)
Choppa burn 'em like incense
Been the realest nigga since an infant
Yeah, my homie shot that nigga, but he innocent, yeah
Gucci's on my feet, yeah they limited, yeah
Keep a ski mask on, you can't sentence him, yeah, yeah
These niggas act like bitches, man, they feminine
I ain't going sweet if it was ten of them, yeah
I up that .223 and shoot at him and him
Shawty thick and she blonde, just like Eminem
Ass shots, just like Kanye and Kim and 'em (Look, ayy)
I said your niggas ain't got it in 'em, rockin' Balenciaga denim
Kill whoever rockin' with 'em, told my nigga stop killing, stop drilling
Fuck that bitch, I'm not tripping, play with me, your top missin' (Yup, yup)
Found 'em by the dock, fishin', caught 'em in it (Yup-yup-yup, yup, yup)
I wanna rock right now
And I'm on the block right now
Bibby got the Glock right now
You can get shot right now, ow
Now you on the ground right now
Ah-ah, how you sound right now
Put your soul in the lost and the found right now
Why you look a little lost in the sauce right now?
Right now, suck my dick and pronounce a noun
Going down, Ice Tray the gang in China Town
On a date, finger fuck my bitch at In-N-Out
And she let it happen just because I got clout
Cinderella glass slipper how I kick shit
Keep one eye upon you niggas like I'm Slick Rick
She gon' meditate upon my dick like gypsy
I've been in that bitch, hustling like Nipsey
I'm the type to shoot a nigga then hit a kickflip
You the type to kiss a bitch that always suck dick
You think you funny? You ain't funny, you on that Chris Tuck shit
Shoot you in your heart, bitch, you get no love, bitch, ayy
Gucci, Louis, Prada, you get money, nada, okay
Mr. I-Could-Fuck-Your-Bitch, but you can't fuck my bitch, no way
She don't gotta cross the street for me to know that that bitch goin' both ways
Told me that her man was on bullshit with me, olé
I'ma hit the stain, then split it, yeah
Fuck a .30, yeah we totin' big shit, yeah
Talk behind my back, yeah, that's that bitch shit, yeah
I'ma let it squeeze 'til it click-click, yeah
Yeah, I'ma let it squeeze 'til it click-click
Leave a nigga cryin' like a chick flick
Choppa burn 'em like incense
Been the realest nigga since an inf—
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