[Intro: Trapland Pat]
(Welcome back, Blake)
(Xair, let me get that motherfucker)
Yeah (Duh-duh-duh)

[Verse 1: Trapland Pat]
We cuttin' through the Bronx, home runnin', think we with the Yankees
Raw paper championship ring, I got it on my pinky (Yeah)
If you don't see Luh Tyler and lil' Kosher, n***a, quite frankly (Z, Z)
Trap done went and ran them racks up, he just went dressin' janky

[Verse 2: Luh Tyler]
I'm in the booth, me and trap on that gas, man this shit stanky
Got your bitch in here, and she throwin' ass, she keep sayin', "Spank me''
See, these n***as they ain't tryna get no bag, I don't know what they thinkin'
N***a, I ain't tryna make no friendships 'cause they get to sinkin'

[Verse 3: BLP Kosher]
Hoppin' out on feet, Passion Pit, I take a walk
Machine gun stays by my side like I'm Megan Fox
Them boys playing air guitar, bitch, I really rock
Spody and Luh Jojo in the cut, that's a butchers block
I'm with Luh Tyler, no Creator, odd future turnin' bright
Under my shirt that shinin' armor only hittin' licks at night
That's a dog fight, I'm breakin' that shit up like Dana White
Jew's name was Mike Cook, he let me cook and pass the mic
Jitterbug jittery, I ain't buggin', they some lice
Long nights up in that yo, done had to make a sacrifice
They disrespected 'til they saw I blew up, now they actin' right
We be shinin' bright, the opps mad, flexin' moissanite
[Verse 4: Trapland Pat]
My side bitch from Brooklyn
Pull up from that three, hit the net another booking
N***as man-hattin', quit cappin' before we hook them
I don't understand why they hating on my chances when I took them
All my hoes on my roster so bad, but I don't whoop them

[Verse 5: Luh Tyler]
Yeah, all my n***as doin' good but all my bitches bad
Man, I swear these hoes be for the team and they be getting passed
See you ran up a lil' cash, but that ain't finna last
I be stayin' in my lane, I ain't nothin' like you n***as
Man, my n***a, he insane, got a button on his pistol
I'll hit that n***a bitch like it's nothing, bet he miss her
I just jumped up on the mic, then I took off like a missile
I'm a big dog to you n***as, bet they call me Mister
Can't get your bitch off me, she see these diamonds and these crystals
I'ma snap any time you put me on the instrumental
Look at my neck, that bitch on froze, it get cold like December

[Verse 6: Trapland Pat]
Believe what you see, not what you heard 'cause it ain't in vain (Duh-duh-duh)
Twenty-five thousand grams of swappery, I zoed the strain (Yeah)
My Cali' bitch tryna go skiing 'cause of Tyler chain
Twenty-five ain't gon make the cut for that Johnny Dang (No)
I can show you how to make the ends meet if it ain't circulation (Haha)
You gon' have to really lock in, use your concentration
If a n***a say he run Deerfield, thats exaggeration
Skii done beat that hat 'bout that Z, he ain't even Haitian
[Verse 7: BLP Kosher]
Pat told me stay from 'round a trick, he ain't Odell
Cash rules everything around me like the Carvel
Amy Winehouse, I'm sippin' cherry in the motel
Sir smoke a lot of opps, Half Baked, Dave Chapelle
Speedin' to that cheese in Saint Pete, but I'm not Russian
Whoop-de-whoop just slid the pine tree with a bakers dozen
He was stretchin' shit before the fame like he Danny Duncan
Catch him out back and I'ma fry him, that's a blooming onion