[Intro: G.T.]
This pain on me
There it go, yeah
(Ron-Ron load it up, Ron-Ron load it up)
Ron-Ron, what up?
Real, ayy

[Verse 1: G.T.]
How I stay sane with all this pain on me?
How I stay sane with all this pain on me?
How I still love you and you changed on me?
I was waitin' on the bag, you ain't wait on me
I was runnin' out of gas with my tank on E
I was runnin' out of cash, couldn't get a bite to eat
When you out here in these streets, n***a, this ain't for the weak
Lost granny nineteen, wish I could kiss her on her cheek
Wan just did a ten, he got out, ain't miss a beat
Ridin' 'round in a Benz, gettin' massaged by the seat
Lil' n***a say they shoppin', why they ain't got 'em no receipts?
I'm in Cali while I'm coppin', Ron-Ron on the bеat
How I know who really poppin', 'cause we always main topic
For thе watch, I left it plain, for the chain, I got it rocky
N***as out here cappin', they ain't really movin' things
Louis hoodie, Louis shoes, also Saint Laurent jeans

[Chorus: G.T.]
I'm really havin' motion, they ain't havin' motion
Mix it, mix the Cuban link up with the diamond choker
I bounced right back after them n***as thought this shit was over
Talkin' to this chicken, it feel like I'm here with Soda
They don't wanna cop that shit 'cause it got too much soda
When they cop that shit from us, they 'bout to take shit over
When you flyin' with that bag, get a layover
I'm 'bout to go drop sixty racks on a Daytona, ayy
[Verse 2: Mack Nickels]
Conversation little different when they know your cheese up (When shit like Spanish)
N***as get they first watch and keep rollin' they sleeves up (I don't wanna see it)
N***as talkin' Daytonas, they ain't got no Paul Newmans (At all)
Off the O's, watch my wrist dance, no Krush Groovin' (Turbo)
Every bitch I love is bustdown, my point is proven (On God)
The whole city feel I'm winnin', but I feel I'm losin' (Said I'm losin' still)
I'm never on the scene, but these hoes choosin' (I don't need y'all)
Even when I'm standin' still, a n***a bag movin' (Shit, I'm through)
N***a fly with a bag and get a layover (Not me)
The last day party, think I wore a Range Rover
Bums started wearin' Creed, then it gave me hives (I hate it)
A lot of n***as look different when they rappin' lies, yeah (Lot of n***as)

[Chorus: G.T.]
I'm really havin' motion, they ain't havin' motion
Mix it, mix the Cuban link up with the diamond choker
I bounced right back after them n***as thought this shit was over
Talkin' to this chicken, it feel like I'm here with Soda
They don't wanna cop that shit 'cause it got too much soda
When they cop that shit from us, they 'bout to take shit over
When you flyin' with that bag, get a layover
I'm 'bout to go drop sixty racks on a Daytona, ayy