[Verse 1: Z]
Look
28z in the trunk, four-fifths in the front (yeah)
And I ain't even trynna dump, but ain't no safety on (haha)
I'm sick of really dropping ashes where they hating on
The fact that I'm still scraping on this glass plate till these flakes is gone
I always knew Z would make the cheese
Like fuck it, they don't need the mic
Rip this coke on your fucking teeth (god damn)
Chop it up to rock n roll
Shit sound like mop and glow
Blowing on some super green
Sipping 40s on the back-route
No Ls and I can't tell if the cops is on my ass now
Fuck it
Cause most of y'all be rapping 'bout posted at the trapping house
During shit that you would brag about if you done it (real shit)
Cause I've spent most of my life chasing dubs
Falling off, stacking up
Balling out and scraping funds (shit I ain't need it)
All I was ever dreaming though, was family with some green involved
Plenty shows but I'm back to nugs
(Fuck it, here we go)
28 grams I'mma break that down
With at least six rounds, get to acting up
If God could see hope your grammy look (please, just this once)
If not I get some fucking stubs, just trynna make a couple bucks and be here when my kids grow up
Until then
[Chorus: Z]
Sipping 40s on the back route
No Ls and I can't tell if the cops is on my ass now
I'm fucking
QPs in the trunk (yeah)
Purple in my lungs and a ball of the funk (ugh)
Sipping 40s on the back route
No Ls and I can't tell if the cops is on my ass now
I'm fucking
QPs in the trunk (yeah)
Purple in my lungs and a ball of the funk (ugh)

[Bridge: Z]
I've been on super hustle double like I'm tipsy again
Don't want no trouble, just some crumble and a zippy of Red
And then we flip
And then we flip, flip
C'mon

[Verse 2: Lon Gotti]
(Yeah, Lon Gotti)
I saw my momma
I'm about my dollars
I used to post a ball of fama with them bags of scamma
Young and hustling for a check
Try and stack some commas
Staying ready for that flex, so I pack a llama (woo)
Yeah
I'm out here standing on my own two
I ain't even tripping because I know what the stove do
I could get to whipping, work my wrists and get to blipping
Pussy, weed and prescription
Pop my Ps for a purpose
To put a P in position
And ever since I was a young-ing I got plenty cake
I used to use my shoe box for a piggy bank
When y'all was word searching, I was curb serving
Every 24 hours I'm moving 28
[Verse 3: Z]
You see what the money make
I dummy shake and bum a eighth (ugh)
And flip it to this 28 again and still plugging fades
Told you "get gritty"
You get muddy wake
I love a break (yeah)
I kick back and blow one-hundred flakes at dummy rates
My whole family blowing trees, grew up in the clouds
Make my money bake, watch it rise then I take it out (go get that)
What you talk about, I pick 'em up and lay 'em out
Cellphone chirp, curb serve then I'm backing round
Tilted the lock of the poet, they knowing I'm openly posting my 5s and true
Fuck with the team and I'm serving ya green all the circles and preens so we're ominous dude (now let me see this shit)
Let's get higher than I ever been
Flip pounds on my relatives and put my family on this pedestal
(it's all for them)

[Bridge: Z]
If I got cookies in the trunk
And he love wide place to go on and book me in a bunk
Z's state to state with the funk
Chopping Ramen for the plug
0-5 will miss me when I duck

[Chorus: Z]
Sipping 40s on the back route
No Ls and I can't tell if the cops is on my ass now
I'm fucking
QPs in the trunk
Purple in my lungs and a ball of the funk
Sipping 40s on the back route
No Ls and I can't tell if the cops is on my ass now
I'm fucking
QPs in the trunk
Purple in my lungs and a ball of the funk
[Bridge: Z]
I've been on super hustle double like I'm tipsy again
Don't want no trouble, just some crumble and a zippy of Red
And then we flip
And then we flip, flip
C'mon