[Verse 1: Wakko The Kidd]
Yeah, little bitch I really trap I’m pushing P straight out the back
If yee ain’t get that Airheadz straight from us that shit is cap
Bitch’ll call me a narcissist my shit sicker than Wuhan
I been selling dope since I was a kid this shit ain’t new dog
I was only 12 hop off the porch I’m on my own now
And I got this shit straight out the streets shoutout my home town
Bet I make ‘em sick half these people used to hate on me
Funny how the fucking table turned cause now they wait on me

[Verse 2: Louie Ray]
This may hurt to hear but I do the mail I don’t deliver
Yeah, ten (?) out to dinner
Toting wood I got a splinter (ay)
I got stones and everything I got on is not no glitter
Me and twenty racks and twenties on one side a pocket ripper
I’m toxic, like my bitch exotic I done knocked the stripper
I’m boxing can’t even leave the crib get wock and (?) delivered
They my members, they don’t let us in then it’s gon’ blow my temper
We got this summer shit on lock we tryna control December

[Verse 3: Wakko The Kidd]
Yeah, Fill the trunk I don’t give a fuck pull up in Bentley trucks
Pop a pint you ain’t pouring shit you got a empty cup
Talking tough all on Instagram I don’t go back and forth
All my homies really rich as fuck they just acting poor
I go spend some bands just on one outfit I got stupid paper
I might fuck this bitch but I can’t nut cause I got two for later
I just spent the bag right on Rodeo went the Gucci way
I done took some L’s but I’m still grinding like I’m Louie Ray (get it)
How the hell they punk you for that pistol get yo fire back
Killed a rat, we done seen his papers he got wire tapped
Where that needle mark is
I done spent 1200 on my skinny jeans
AR-15 with the 2-2-3 that shit my mini me
I ran up a bag all on my own I got a different flex
All I really need is some good neck I just might skip the sex
Honestly I’m smoking half this pound and I’ma flip the rest
All I’m smoking on is this too loud because it hit the best
[Verse 4: Louie Ray]
You can tell that this shit too loud the way it hit the chest
Bullets hit his flesh my life a math and fitness test
Too much dope to hear the stress
I wake up and play with breasts (okay)
Wakko just play (?)
I walk alone you can’t play a player bitch might as well play the stairs
Pull up on rims at county fairs (yeah) iced my cartier’s
This hood comfortable you wonder how that’s cause I come from there
I’m drinking drink up outta wine glasses it ain’t no cup in there (n***a)