[Intro]
Yeah
Ayy (Are you in the mafia?)

[Verse 1]
I'm a good n***a but my bitch bad
Like she 'bout to spend the night, got a big bag
She got a thing for rich n***as in the Hellcat
She preferrin' n***as quiet with a lot of racks
Two bands on the shoes, these Ricks got me in a move
And I'm off the shroom, the freshest n***a in the room
She ain't got no ass but she pretty so I said, "It's cool"
I got real demons in the cut, I'll cut 'em loose
Lil' bitch tryna play close, had to cut her loose
Gang trip down in Miami, got a hundred coupes
Some of these hoes get around the money and don't know what to do
If she ain't get that BBL, she'll be really through
Your n***a ain't nothin' like me, go 'head, tell the truth
Bitch, I banged out racks, who the fuck is you?
N***a, you can go from rags to riches, I'm the livin' proof
I could fit your whole house in my livin' room
I be wearin' tennis chains but I ain't playin' tennis
She only in her twenties but her hair fifty inches
It's so little, you can't tell I got a AR pistol
If you dissin' on the 'net, I'ma come and get you
[Chorus]
Everytime she at the crib, she be tryna put my Cuban on
I don't got no dance moves but my shit doin' the tootsie roll
Blew a roll last night, before the night, I be done blew a roll
This shit everyday
I can never lack, take the stick to every play
Bitch, you can't get a bag but you can get some Chic-Fil-A (Haha)
The way I hit the girl, I just might catch a case (Yeah)
I'll throw you green, tell me, can you catch a case?

[Verse 2]
I just dumped eighty lines of red, I'm Jerry Rice
Drink so much Wock', I'ma turn into a pint
How the fuck she a ho and got turned into a wife? (How?)
All black Ricks but the bottom of 'em white
All black stick but the beam on it mint green, n***a, don't tempt me (Boy)
I'll pull up in Prada and leave in Givenchy
I won't pull up in no [?] to pick you up, this a Bentley
She pray for a rich n***a to Heaven and they sent
You play the role with some real killers, so we sent them
We ain't want them so we sent 'em back, I don't give a fuck (I don't want 'em)
I don't give a fuck, dawg, these hoes could be kissin' cousins (I be goin' flrrt, I guess it's little button)
I got on these Louis trainers, nah, these ain't no Dior runners
I keep all my hoes close to me but the paper closer
Countin' all this shit, hands up like I had a paper cutter
My choppers all got cookie cookers, I'm realer than a motherfucker
[Chorus]
Everytime she at the crib, she be tryna put my Cuban on
I don't got no dance moves but my shit doin' the tootsie roll
Blew a roll last night, before the night, I be done blew a roll
This shit everyday
I can never lack, take the stick to every play
Bitch, you can't get a bag but you can get some Chic-Fil-A
The way I hit the girl, I just might catch a case (Yeah)
I'll throw you green, tell me, can you catch a case?