[Verse 1: Yesify]
Folks stop rappin' when they ass don’t blow up
Call me out but they never really show up
Tryna make commas, tryna make dollas
Fuck a record label, deal is off the table
Hope they never call us, we actin' like some ballas
Used to not exist, actin' like I gotta diss
In my free time, shootin' Kobe on the wrist
Everybody hate me like I’m Chris
My freestyle’s better than yo written raps
On track doin' laps and I’m seein' all caps
Got no time to chit-chat
Ain’t fallin' for the trap
If it don’t make dollas then it don’t make sense
Try to block mе but I’m puttin' up a fence
Pressurе on my mind, things are getting tense
All together like a four-wheel truck
Turn the bass up
Yeah, yeah, turn the bass up (Bass up)
You are so fake, like some makeup (Makeup)
I can take your bitch and make you breakup (Breakup)
So I walk up in this motherfucker, tell 'em what it is (Huh?)
Used to be a bully when I was a little kid (Okay)
Just consider what I’m doing as a lead up
Talkin' mad shit, boy get beat up
[Verse 2: Ghostface tha Trendsetta]
Remember when they used to ride Cadillac’s on twenty-fo’s
Change their clothes and gettin' hoes
Goin' to the club, though
Body rockin', pussy poppin', shakin' ass all on the flo'
Let me see how low you go
Touch your toes
It’s the Big Trendsetta, old school sweater
Cuban link chain but my watch glow better
Comin' off the brain with a flow like chedda
Call me Big Dog 'cause my bite is like a hitter
I’m mysterious that they get furious just by the sight of me
Delirious, I’m so imperious, they’re gettin' serious
I’m curious, what’s it take to really be on top?
All these wack ass rappers makin' music need to stop
Turn the bass up

[Verse 3: Ludlee]
How the fuck all these wack ass non-rappin' ass dumb rappers in the industry?
Crazy, ain’t it, G?
They ain’t worried 'bout droppin' no hits
They just talk all this shit about the fame and the bitches and the money and the riches
That’s all the bitches they want
I’m already knowin' that I’m gonna make it one day
But all these people they in my way
I’m tired of the fame
I’m gon' make it up, though
Pull up with this thing, though
Drop toppin' and friendzone
Told that bit' to lay low
My wrist is like Quavo
They do what I say so
I don’t really play, that’s why I keep on gettin' on my shit
All these bitches in the back, tell 'em suck up on my dick
Pity the people they hatin'
Pull up with choppa like [?]
I don’t give fuck what they say
I’m goin' and they say
Pull up wit' a AK
Know exactly how it be
But they always hated me
Fuck all your enemies
I’m the friend up underneath