[Intro: Hit-Boy]
Ay, Tony (Wow)
Fontana (Wow)
Yeah, yeah

[Chorus: Hit-Boy]
808 rolling, pockets bulging
Arms wide open, n***as can't hold em
Keep it in motion
Love to my closest ones who loved me at my lowest
Gangsta shit in my tape deck, running it back
Really this shit is a marathon but we ain't running no track

[Verse 1: Hit-Boy]
Yeah, yeah, yeah, I've been avoiding the noise
Hopping in toys, moving poised
Nothing is forced, mixing the formula
Wedding in Florida
We in domestic and we be foreign'd up (And we be foreign'd up)
Like we some foreigners (Like we some forеigners)
Overseas drеssed in fatigues
In case you lil n***as want war with us
On the I-10, we doing 120
We keeping it pushing, got love for the clique
When ain't nobody lookin'
I kept this shit solid and look where it took me (Look where it took me)
Heat up the stove, now I'm finna cook
Funny thing is they already shook
Word to AK, bitch I'm doing a look (Shakedown, ayy)
[Chorus: Hit-Boy]
808 rolling, pockets bulging
Arms wide open, n***as can't hold em
Keep it in motion
Love to my closest ones who loved me at my lowest
Gangsta shit in my tape deck, running it back
Really this shit is a marathon but we ain't running no track

[Verse 2: Hit-Boy]
We in the Hills, way in the Hills
I ain't got no chill, we did it for real
Look how I pose in all the stills
All black hoodies like I'm doing drills (I'm doing drills)
All I'm rocking is Nipsey blue
N***as be slimey and shifty too
Can't let 'em around me, I'm simply through, for real
Damn, too many years of this shit
Too many characters pulling a skit
Updated my style and then I updated the whip
God my witness, I am to the Inlet what Drake is to T.O.
Brodie checked in with his B and the PO
Dice game, bet whatever on Cee-Lo (Shakedown, ayy)

[Chorus: Hit-Boy]
808 rolling, pockets bulging
Arms wide open, n***as can't hold em
Keep it in motion
Love to my closest ones who loved me at my lowest
Gangsta shit in my tape deck, running it back
Really this shit is a marathon but we ain't running no track
[Verse 3: Curren$y]
Gangsta shit in my tape deck, 88 'Vette
We don't send threats, we just invest
Collect interest, I'm not impressed, easily
All of these hoes freaks to me, you had to trick to hit that bitch
I smashed her and she bought me shit, it's fast and it cost hella chips
I bought that bitch, I'm still alive cause all my OGs taught me shit
Now my lil homies got heart and they smart
But I don't send them to crash out 'cause I'm a boss
The art of war, created more thinkers, we way more dangerous
Some n***as hate on us when they need to thank us
Emulate us but could never take us
I got in this shit to buy my ma a house
Somewhere along the lines, I end up famous

[Chorus: Hit-Boy]
808 rolling, pockets bulging
Arms wide open, n***as can't hold em
Keep it in motion
Love to my closest ones who loved me at my lowest
Gangsta shit in my tape deck, running it back
Really this shit is a marathon but we ain't running no track

[Outro: DJ Greg Street (Album Version Only)]
Hit-Boy!
Another one
Greg Street's question of the day:
Why advise people who don't wanna listen?
Let the people do they thing