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I put that ice on my crucifix and tonight I'm Christian
I don't got exes, it's just ecstacy and that's all I'm missin'
They say that I been gone too long and I'm movin' too distant
Just so you know I only came for the check
You can win a ring where you at, play it right
Stripes like a ref, I don't need your respect
Ain't too many kings when you thumbin' through the deck
I don't touch a pen unless I'm signin' off a debt

Oh, whole squad comin' up
Whole hood comin' up
Got the squad goin' up
Got the neighborhood goin' up

Yeah, fallback gang to the f**kin' fullest
All my n***as eatin' to the f**kin' fullest
Actin' like my d**k, I'm the f**kin' fullest
Attitude changed, I'm the f**kin' fullest
Shout out to Kylie, shout to Miley
I need a white b*t*h, not talking 'bout Molly
I met her at Follies, but she out in Cali
That pu**y need Geico, I'm wreckin' up, damage
I'm actin' a savage, my tongue in her ribs tho'
I'm doin' my damn thang, I slip in her pinky hole

Yeah
Paralyzed to the bullsh*t, I don't feel none of y'all n***as
Got me leaning in the pulpit shooting all of y’all n***as
Yeah

Whole squad comin' up
Whole hood comin' up
Got the squad goin' up
Got the neighborhood goin' up

Yeah, alright
f**k all these basic b*t*hes, I'm with Lira Galore
I'm addicted to money and drugs, I need more, I need more, I need more
Top floor Fountain Bleau
I'ma have to have all freaky hoes and jewels
Gucci on my head, a couple thousand for the view
Bet she never knew that my papa was a jew
Mazeltov
Shaggy just pulled up with the baklava
I was sittin' time on a Audemars
Tyler's pulled up with the Dolly Parton
I just spent the weekend in a Aston Martin (Facts)
I just dropped the top like I'm Al Sharpton (Facts)
Remix that
Top still missin', I should put it on a carton
Yellow thick b*t*h, livin' in the apartment
I told my n***as holla at me if you havin' a problem
We on the paper like commas and columns
it's gettin' hot up in the six
RIP to Ethan, you forever will be missed
Sunny ass beach where the b*t*hes are better
Steve Nash with the pass, Steve Nash with the assist
Tonight I blew a rack to see your favorite's stripper strip
And that's on Blood, on Blood, on Crip
X on X, that's gang on bang
OMO that OVO, that's gang on gang
Four-five b*t*hes, that's bang on gang
just a Molly that's X on ten
Alright
The rush for the fame, ain't the realest, know me
Wrist too drippin' and my Cuban's stoney
Can't play no games when they fake 'em for me
Man it feels good, Tony! Toni! Toné!
Man it feels good, Tony! Toni! Toné!
They think you weak when you one and lonely
But I got homes on homes, I got homies
Ghostwrite that to the horse, my lil' pony
Yessir
My crew band, couple M's if I bet like woo
Yeah

Whole squad comin' up
Whole hood comin' up
Got the squad goin' up
Got the neighborhood goin' up
(Yeah, yeah)
Oh-oh-oh

Paralyzed to the bullsh*t, I don't feel none of y'all n***as
Got me livin' in a [?] still shootin' all of y'all n***as

And it's all in the wrist like Ray Charles Jr
Nobody's sh*t flyer than my b*t*h sh*t petunias
In the black coupe and my b*t*h is in a Mercedes
And I'm back to pimpin' more b*t*hes than a Dalmatian

Yeah
PX, Party

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