[Chorus: Z]
I got zips I let go for two-hundred
Some 'for a hand come talk to me
Aye
I blow sticks with my bitch we cruising
We just trynna move funds throughout the week
We say "break me off my cheddar please"
And catch the MAC no D.R.E
I roll with my beretta Z
Just trynna stack that's B.I.G

[Verse 1: Z]
Look, my fam
Go dumb
Bout the funds, no bums
Me and my bitch make runs
So let me come, all huns
She hold the sack I hold the gun
I pull it back, we on the run
I'm trynna stack it 'til it's done
We get to acting with the plug
Fact I'm probably jacking Dickey's
Sagging with a cuff
That one Piraña with his dragon so we catch him when he bust
I like sign around the package so thе llama stay on tough
And I ain't gangsta, but I'll manage if the drama say what's up
Buckets on low-kеy
Slumping at a slow speed
Head tilted like a nose-bleed
Probably puffing on a blunt
Running with some OGs
Ten toes that dough speaks
Serve 'em then I'm skirting up out the parking lot, we gone
Let me fade you while I pray for my pacers, I'm talking rocks
Stacked like Legos, better daygo
My case open, but that's on God
From able I've connected a cable I'm blowing bomb
And I can noodle off the top for the state well you know the song
Come on
[Chorus: Z]
I got zips I let go for two-hundred
Some 'for a hand come talk to me
Aye
I blow sticks with my bitch we cruising
We just trynna move funds throughout the week
We say "break me off my cheddar please"
And catch the MAC no D.R.E
I roll with my beretta Z
Just trynna stack that's B.I.G

[Verse 2: Twisted Insane]
Blood
Roll deep
OE
OGs know me
Z just hit me with a dope beat
I'mma kick this shit off like a goalie
Stomping with the Chucks on feet
Finna walk up in the mo-mo
N***as don't know
That I met your brother, than I'd rather be up on a solo shit
Drink rum, have fun
Brainsicks, pack rum
N***a ain't nobody act dumb
Homie we are busting with the gat gun
Somebody tell me when this rap done
Hit the weed, it's time to roll up
Only fucking with the Z blunts
I was in the front and doing donuts
Watch out when you in the West Coast
Everybody got the teflon
No restaurant
Fuck a sweater
Make decisions better if you got a vest on
No-one's getting
Hang heat out the 4-door
The bros roll down the avenue when I add two to your polo
Always repping San Diego
Added to I'm on with
Bicardi is hella with sour cream
Baking back on my own shit
Mood, uhm
Mood you
Fuck peace
You better be ready for hell come
If a n***a talking 'bout fuck me
Hahaha
[Chorus: Z]
Zips I let go for two-hundred
Some 'for a hand come talk to me
Aye
I blow sticks with my bitch we cruising
We just trynna move funds throughout the week
We say "break me off my cheddar please"
And catch the MAC no D.R.E
I roll with my beretta Z
Just trynna stack that's B.I.G