[Intro]
Yeah
It’s like
(Test)
Huh, it’s like
It’s like
It’s like
It’s what?
It’s like

[Chorus]
I need them racks, don’t care if it's clean
But got the most what you ever seen
Two and a half for the piff, Charlie Sheen
Better know that it's me, if you’re smelling the green
I’m a fiend for the work, for the bread, not to mention, the lean
Devilish clips got a long magazine
I ain’t doing up no Vogue, boy, I’m not Billie Jean
Fam, I ain’t been sober in ages
I got stacks, flip through them like pages
Paper notes when my bread outdated
I made racks when Bieber had haters
N***as in the cut, with the tools, like the maintenance
For the beef, my bro got taters
Just don’t get caught on the main
You got got, now your mum’s in pain
[Verse]
My money came up, but nothing ain’t changed
Pull up, put a mask on, put a face to the name
If I’m out, then I’m going insane
If I give him a taste, he ain’t leaving the same
Part two, if he gets up again, I ain’t really afraid of just leaving a stain
I fucked up my t-shirt, parts of his brain on the piece, next time I’m using a skeng
Next time, I’m getting his boy and his friend
Bitch on my hand, like I’m doing up Yeng
Braids on my hair, I feel like Skillibeng
The leng, from Aliexpress bought in yen
Cash from the time n***as were sayin' "Peng"
I blow the bag like I’m blowing it yeng
I blow the ting like I’m blowing her— (Woo)
I got his brudda, hit gang in my Benz
The way that its toking, it's smoking, silly
I’m in an all-white coupe with the all white [?], got man feeling like a billy
I make bands off spoofing tilly's
I feel like Wayne when he made A Milli
I'ma piss on the beat and the verse ain’t cheap
I ain’t done 'til that shit ain’t my willy
Yeah, man can’t be tamed
My bruddas stab and they aim for the veins
And they go to the point where the boy can’t be saved
Mum, keep your children locked in the house, if that n***a come out, then that boy isn’t safe
Yeah, I wear that Rick and it's plain
They see my shit and they’re wearing the same
It don’t hit the same and you know that it ain’t
I fell in love with a bitch, Mary Jane
Alice, I got a bed in a palace
I folded the Mac and I sat and I ran it
I chill with the big dogs, you couldn't manage
I didn’t even plan it, I see it I handle it
I’m out on the road with intent for the malice
Gloves on, feel like the brother of Janet
I got the lighter, I see it, I tan it
I got perfect aim, now he’s up in the granite
[Chorus]
I need them racks, don’t care if it's clean
But got the most what you ever seen
Two and a half for the piff, Charlie Sheen
Better know that it's me, if you’re smelling the green
I’m a fiend for the work, for the bread, not to mention, the lean
Devilish clips got a long magazine
I ain’t doing up no Vogue, boy, I’m not Billie Jean
Fam, I ain’t been sober in ages
I got stacks, flip through them like pages
Paper notes when my bread outdated
I made racks when Bieber had haters
N***as in the cut, with the tools, like the maintenance
For the beef, my bro got taters
Just don’t get caught on the main
You got got, now your mum’s in pain