[Intro: RTB MB]
(AJ, you iced up?)
Yeah, RTB, n***a
Come on

[Verse 1: RTB MB]
Stephen A., I got my Smith with me
Threw a opp off the glass to my mans, we finna get litty
In New York, boy, I probably got your bitch with me
If you ain't up a couple hundred, n***a, you can't sit with me
She want some cheese, I have nothing
She want some cheese, I have nothing
I'm in Houston screamin' R.I.P. Whitney
Every time she climax, girl, you know I'm tryna hit Kenny
Gilbert Arenas, I'm in the locker room with blick with me
Like I'm always playin' 2K with the Heat, yeah, I keep a stick with me
Told her that I love her 'cause she down to hit a lick with me
Oh, I forgot they want sports bars
I feel like Dame or James when I step back
Disrespectful, at a Yankees game with a Mets hat
Feel like D-Rose, I overcame every setback
40 hit him all angles, over-under, n***a, bet that
Sold a fin to KDeezy, said they finna bring the Nets back
Okay, okay
They tried to kick me out the game, DeMarcus Cousins how I crept back
Spin the block with TECs, you be chillin' where the refs at
She like, "Boy, you tryna fuck," I'm like, "Oh, you guessed that"
Feel like Biggie, I'll hit a n***a—
Feel like Biggie, I'll hit a n***a girl where he slept at
Damn, I mean where he sleep at
Out in Kansas City juggin' stores, n***a, where the Chiefs at
Feel like Bobby Portis, n***a
Feel like Bobby Portis, if you try me, I'll knock your teeth back
N***a, stop playin', n***a
Yeah, rest in peace V. Roy
If you in Portland, we gon' trail, then blaze your whip, call me B. Roy
Thought I had a Glock, I got a Drac', that's a decoy
My n***as countin' pape' 'til they sore, we don't sleep, boy
You said you had a G-Wag', I saw you in a Jeep, boy
You can't even look inside my whip, it make the "Eeh" noise
I'ma shoot my shot from the trey if I see Coi
You ain't got no bitches at the party, we gon' leave, boy
[Interlude: RTB MB]
We out, n***a, come on
RTB, n***a

[Verse 2: Terry Rozier]
The bitch couldn't wait to cook for me, she made me rice, but I ain't Jerry
I'm feelin' like George, she asked which one, bitch, not Larry
I ain't Jeffrey either, and I'm way better than my pops
Her head a ninety-nine overall, so in my phone, she J.J. Watt
And Moses always got the drop, so I'ma place him in that slot
(Man, AMB, shit, who you done, n***a?)
Chum might spark up in the locker room, who you smokin'? This the one, n***a
I'm on the road with Dip, we don't steal sauce, we just run shit
I'm tryna think 'bout who the fuck play sports
I know a youngin, he don't know no better, he wore Barkleys to court
Judge seen 'em, she was sick, she said, "You know that this your last chance"
He out on bond, n***a walked out and did the Ray Lewis dance
Shit, I can serve you with racks, I don't play tennis, but it's in my chain
Your boy do nothin' in the fourth, he copped an eighth after the damn game
I swear he lame as fuck
Bro caught bodies and switched the sneaks, oh, he P.J. Tuck'
I'm makin' money in the air, come get Bourré trapped
And hella P's hit the block, we call that Warren Sapp
And I ain't Warren G
I be with big B's way more than Papi Ortiz
The only TECs that we shoot far from off the streets
Eight for the purple, it was sweet, so I bought some more
N***a, eight for the purple, with a route, I'm out in Baltimore
I told TT, "Man, go'n and make ESPN"
Really matter in Kentucky, hell nah, I ain't with BBN
Ayy, and rest in peace Pop Smoke
We dodgin' out in LA, Took and Herb, them my favorite Locs
Yeah, and I don't really mess with 2K
Only thing in common, I'm in the league and I got two K's
[Outro: Terry Rozier]
Come on
Ayy, I'm just tryna make ESPN, man
GMB, MB, what up?
Midwest