I’m talkin’ bad bitches, ain’t no half steppin’
N***as get famous, forget to bring their mans with ‘em
N***as get money, act like they never had bitches
Then they lose focus, look up and all the fans missin’
Then the blame everyone ‘cept the man in the mirror
They get followers and forget all the codes they was followin’
Frequently they be losin’ people that preach all the honesty
Nobody around you to peep all the leeches that’s on me
I swear my pad thicker, pen game sicker
Dick game proper, nickname Poppa
Pull up on your bitch and then the whole crew ours
Pull up with the shits and then the whole crew powdered
Look… shit talkin’, we gon’ get money
Them boys fresh but they not this stunted
I ain’t got no problems, I don’t downplay, homie
Ain’t no pillow talkin’ when them hoes come for me
They just cum for me, this is how I’m bummin’
We can write your lyrics, let’s negotiate somethin’
Appropriate or not, when they know he in the spot
They get froze up with their nose up, but then nothin’ goes from there
Weed funky, pack like Anderson
Crack like ‘86, you n***as is baby shit
I cannot relate to it, I’m just signin’ your lady’s tits
Then it’s on to fellatio
Finger fuckin’ this world until we come up in this world
How dare them n***as tell us that we not ready
When the road get rocky, we rock steady
I need it ASAP, we elevatin’, they stoppin’ to stare
I need my face back
Continue to paint the perfect picture and they can’t trace that
Pocket full of stones, threw that at a glass house
Money I dreamed about, I spent that on my last house
So I ain’t talkin’ outside when I tell them to catch me out
How ‘bout dat? All eyes glued when I hop out that
I was destined to be the greatest when I hopped out dad
Mom’s was there but how ‘bout dad
Baby, mind your business, yeah, ‘cause we right back
Like a bitch on your Instagram who ain’t write back
Until you got that K behind your numbers, it’s like that
That’s how they live, that’s how they act
Wish I could embarrass all of these hoes, what’s their @s?
I hate these apps, she want D so she distract
But I’m guilty ‘cause I react
But I don’t lack and I don’t slack
My excuse, I’m just a man
Got that down pat so break down pack
It’s ironic that it’s perfect ‘cause we don’t practice
And I still kicked ahhhhh take out my business, n***a, fuck it
It’s lit