[Intro]
Yeah, ayy
Back again
Luciano
Me and racks in the booth
I'm sittin' down eatin' Benihanas and I'm sober

[Verse]
Luciano, I'm the man
They heard I'm official with the pots and pans
I don't need friends, I need xans
Tell the world we spendin' them bands
Asked my lil homie, you out or you in?
These n***as be fake, anybody they mans
Used to reach in my pocket and pick out the lint
Now I eat Benihanas, the steak and the shrimp
That's the Homicide Boys behind the tint
Everybody call they hood the trench
Boy your hood is not the trench
You got neighborhood watch, man these n***as be snitchin'
I don't fuck with these n***as, I keep 'em at distance
These n***as get shot up over some bitches
If I wasn't rappin', n***a I'd be clippin'
Stand ten toes down, whip in the trenches
These n***as never was official
Crip jaw better be official, bust a pistol
Hit the switch on the stick, make it spit like mystical
Pull on your block and I bet it get digital
I play with them babies like dabba-dabba-doo
I'm in the trap, n***a who are you?
One phone call get your whole clique through
Got the Gucci with the bumblebee, ooh
I chop up a brick then I hop in the coupe
Free took the traction off so we slidin' through
I'm the big homie y'all lil n***as idol
You can lemonade mumble, add [?] on Tidal
I don't write rhymes, I was born with a bible
Decked up Gucci, you can have her, we gon' find her
These n***as was born for American Idol
Came with the stick, bet that motherfucker blind you