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Antt did the track
(Beat Gang)
Huh

Yeah, never let them pu**y n***as play me
Put that on my baby, Forgis on a Maybach truck, it cost two-eighty
Richer than them n***as that be hatin'
Shooters like McGrady in Kentucky, with that fetti goin' crazy, huh
Stick tucked, I let my chain hang
Rich and gang bang
Leave a fifty in this b*t*h to rain in, huh
Bustin' sh*t, don't wear no Plain Jane
Hundred-thousand dollar Rollie, Scottdale, an AP on the same hand
You with the opps, that mean you ain't my mans
You movin' like the cops, can't take a chance, thirty-thousand in my pants
Yeah, dog sh*t in my pockets, where your bands?
Hit the show with thirty hitters
I'm with Cudi, he'll blick before he land
Cash it all the time, don't wait for sh*t
Twenty chains, crazy kid
Rich n***a, I can't f**k no basic b*t*h
You never been no boss, you drankin' tris
You never been no shooter, you's a b*t*h
Quay Quay with me, he got stick, huh
Pour the Wocky up and drop a six
Icy than a b*t*h, put my city on the map, we in the mix
I been slimin' sh*t out since a jit
Cuban cost two bricks
We got all them thirsty hoes takin' pics
You wanna sign me? Yellin' out three mill'
Tweakin' in this b*t*h, just popped a pill
Gang 'nem yellin' out, "Free Kill"
Yeah, f**k a record label, we too real
F**k award shows, we in the field
Shoot that chopper like I'm skilled, n***a
I love my lil' bean 'cause she real
She want me at my best but love me at my worst, still
I can't let 'em kill Bill
I keep three Glocks and a stick
One regular, one got a d**k
One of 'em fully, with a fifty and a switch
A n***a diss, his a** better stay focused
Nowadays, the real n***as be doin' a lot of ho sh*t
Yeah, you know me, I'm on my zone sh*t
My n***as don't speak english
All they know is when we pull up, hop out, squeeze and
I'm f**kin' demonin' him
Bullets miss, I'm immortal
And I'm bossin' up, I got the 'Rari truck on pre-order
The fifty for the Richard Mill', I ain't even see a quarter
I need my twenty-five, where I reside, these n***as down shorter
I got expensive taste
I'm drankin' Wock', I scrape
Takin' zaza to the face, on a private jet in either state
They see they down for me but really fakin'
Ain't one to help, put on my shoes, man, I couldn't tie my laces (Yeah)
Like John Gotti, beat a thousand cases
We keepin' people straight, they doin' voodoo way in Haiti
I'ma speak my mind every time, I don't care how you take it
I keep it real, and for that all the real, n***as embrace me
Jumped off the tour bus and all the b*t*hes start to chase me
But then my pockets start spreadin', I big faced it
The cheese, the cheese done got me beefin' with my lady
She pulled up to the ugly corner, jumped out, tryna mace me
(Beat Gang)

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