(Getting low just like a waist belt) x2
(Stay frosty y’all)
Verse 1:
Getting low just like a waist belt
Forty on me cooking shit
Watch it make his face melt
Hanging with my crew because my people never take Ls
We high
All up in the sky we smoking space Ls
It’s quiet
(Haaa)
They all up in the house with they lil gay selves
Told the plug to drop it off and put it on the eighth shelf
I’m lying
Went to pick it up from where he stay
Well
I got double green like Mrs. Santa’s littlе slave elf
Smoking on so many dead opps I feel likе Adolf
He say he a player but can’t even make the playoffs
Tell her this ain’t Kit Kat
You can’t get a break off
I wanna beat her back so her clothes I’m finna take off
I slide
Then I lick it up like it’s Demi Glace sauce
(I lick it up)
I’m fried
Let her lick and suck on all my veins
(Uh)
Why
Cuz I feel like I’m boutta perculate
(Uh)
Dancin on my body while I’m sipping that rosé up
(Sippin that Rosé up)
(Ayedoee)
(Aye)x2
Verse 2:
(Look)
And I said I’m moving on
Bitch I got the choppa it’s robotic call it rugertron
I hit CTO tell him bout that Jimmy Nueteron
I’m feelin smart
So a n***a gotta get his tutor on
He in the dark
Couldn’t wake him up if they had two alarms
We hit a spark
Feelin like I’m Jordan I got shooter arms
I’m in the park
Shoutout to the rappers that was grooming Za
I’m dissing Garth
Queen here I’m in the room with her
Brodie inna cart
Soldiers wit em sending two with them
Bullets hit ya heart
Then we spin
Let it hit him up
It’ll hit em hard
Then we finna spin again and polka dot that tinted car
Put me on an odyssey I’m posted out in Senegal
(Posted out in Senegal)
(In Senegal)
(Shooting like a pyrocynical)