[Intro]
(WoodOnDaBeat)
Golden, CountUp
Ayy
I'ma let this bitch breathe, n***a
But I got my foot on these n***as' neck, won't let these n***as breathe, n***a
Yeah
Jump in this coupe, bitch, put your seatbelt on
N***a goin' a hundred miles per hour through the stop signs
Ayy, come on
I'm on that fly shit
Uh, I'm on that fly shit
N***a, ayy
Golden, mmm

[Verse 1]
So much pain in my body, mama, I don't know who to trust
Always knew I was gon' blow, n***a, I feel it in my gut
I was broker than a bitch, rollin' mids in a Dutch
Mike died, n***a, I gotta get these M's, it's a must
I treat her like a baby mama, but she used to be my lady
And I ain't takin' care of you hoes, n***a, I'm takin' care of my baby
You bitches kicked me whеn I was low, so don't be mad a n***a made it
And Golden rеally seein' M's now, my ex-bitches hate it
N***a, I was fucked up, I was sleepin' in my car
N***a, I was posted up sellin' weed out a jar
N***a, I sold a hundred pills, then I bought my first car
Fast forward a couple years, Golden, you a superstar, ayy
[Interlude]
Trap shit, n***a
Came out that motherfuckin' trap for real, n***a
Give a fuck what no n***a talkin' 'bout, n***a
Feel me? Ayy
Know what I'm sayin'?
It ain't 'bout the, it ain't 'bout the
It ain't 'bout the hardest n***a, n***a
Then get that motherfuckin' money, n***a

[Verse 2]
Dope boy Res and Dickie 'fits, n***a, we trapped out
Fuck n***a, you ain't really gettin' no money, we know you capped out
I just fucked this bitch like a dog, then she tapped out
I'll drop them bands on that n***a, get him clapped now
Dope Nikes and white tees, jit, we really trap
We don't even listen to them n***as 'cause they really cap
On my mama, I'm a trap n***a, I don't really rap
How the fuck them n***as in the club and them n***as strapped?
I just fucked a pretty Black bitch on two hundred thousand
Told cuh this a long way from them public houses
I got rap money, trap money, I got money pilin'
I can peep a police-ass n***a, I can hear the siren
Four-forty-eight on that scale, that's a whole chicken
N***a, you want thirty-three grams? That's a Scottie Pippen
He say he can't trust his own dogs, they'll Money Mitch him
Cuh, your people snake, n***a 'round you, better go and flip him (Brrt)