[Intro: Boldy James]
Craven, yeah, Shabb
Where we at, gang?

[Verse 1: Boldy James]
Real stepper, hooking up, I'm somethin' like a meal prepper
Cooking up a biggie fry same size as a bell pepper
All of these chirps got the weepers on my tail feather
Most my Creatures got a fed profile and a jail record
New Off-White VaporMax, I'm on my fourth run
Posted in the slums with that stick out like a sore thumb
The 580 cherry cola but the Porsche plum
All the work A1, ain't talking 'bout no Force 1s
Rain, hail, sleet, snow; we trap in all weather
Felon in possession, never had a alcohol tether
The biggest bully with the fully trigger like a pulley
Head-tap him with the strig, we giving n***as nookies
Every day I put on that shit, this ain't just for the 'Gram
On the hill with L. Boogie and the boogeyman
Champion hoodie of the trenches, now we off the Richter
'Cause all a n***a do is win, they should call me Victor

[Chorus: Boldy James]
Just from his persona, ain't talking Wembanyama
Now everything is Gucci, Louis, Lenci', Fendi, Prada
Old money still spin, I've been getting yama
In a small pond full of guppies, I'm a big piranha
I'm very humble and I'm modest but I'm with the drama
That's not a threat, that's a promise, I got too many commas
Middle finger to your honor, we green as iguana
Don't got shit to do with the price of tea in Tijuana
[Post-Chorus: Boldy James]
Yeah, ayy
Fuck do that got to do with the price of tea in China?
Uh-huh
Fuck do that got to do—, what else?

[Verse 2: Mike Shabb]
Remember walking on my block in my younger days
Smoking more pot to fade the hunger away
I used to watch the clock, make sure the [?] ain't late
Creepin' at night like roaches on the bed frame
He was speakin' at life, head floatin' in the airways
Now he beatin' his wife, clothes in the staircase
Talkin' bout a fair game
Can't even wrap his head around the fact he got a square face
Cocaine on the middle table like José
Coltrane playin' in the back like the old days
I ride with ghost-face killers in the old Range
Blow the whole frame like Don Cornelius did Soul Train
They on the 'Gram talking 'bout they want the old me
Like they know the old me
Retaliation never sweet, we pull up, wet your whole street
We ain't backin' down on no sh—

[Chorus: Boldy James]
Just from his persona, ain't talking Wembanyama
Now everything is Gucci, Louis, Lenci', Fendi, Prada
Old money still spin, I've been getting yama
In a small pond full of guppies, I'm a big piranha
I'm very humble and I'm modest but I'm with the drama
That's not a threat, that's a promise, I got too many commas
Middle finger to your honor, we green as iguana
Don't got shit to do with the price of tea in Tijuana
[Post-Chorus: Boldy James]
Yeah, ayy
Fuck do that got to do with the price of tea in China?
Uh-huh
Fuck do that got to do—, what else?