I ain't stepping bitch I'm making goat maneuvers
Every day I wake up wishing
I hear Robin's Ghost producers
Man they all kids
Y'all don't even got a bank account
We share the money kind of
I just keep it it's a big amount
You want a piece and I just call this shit allowance
Maybe for a verse
Or for a beat, I don't even doubt it

I mean, I mean, yo
Really I just do shit you do shit
But in your dreams like it's lucid
Only like once a year I'm so elusive
But that shit ain't conducive
And making a check

You get it cracking
Then you hitting the deck like you pirates
I pick up four, I'm at the spot
I only hope that I can pick up more
I mean all I do is running
So I think I'm Sor, bank account
Dragging long, my bank account
Filled up with that fire shit
I love violence, you should try it
It's all I see when I'm closing up my eyelids
Rock a big shirt and I'm weird, Billie Eilish
I hop on a beat and I big dick that shit, man
They ask me what's good and I point at my wrist, man
They ask me what's good and I point out my fit
Point out my dick, yeah
Point out your bitch, woa, woah

Slap the Tris out your hand
All my boys came out with trumpets, man
We big as the band
I love making the bands
I love making me dance
I love pulling out the strapping
All I'm showing their hands
I love making them dance
I love to get up for stage
I ain't Trippie Redd boy
I've been making them rage
I love holding a 20
I love making the bands
I do not discriminate
I just love holding the cash
I love seeing them dead
And when they begging the red
I love when they get your shit
I want to know what they said
I love to get in they head
I love to get real lit
I love abusing all drugs cuz I don't give a shit okay