[Intro]
Yo
Wolf, Gang
Golf, Wang
Yo, yo

[Verse]
Swag me out, bitch
In a eight-thousand dollar outfit
Yeah, I hear these n***as talking, ain't about shit
I'm on 15, these n***as on Cloud 6
Tryna get to 9, I'm who they get behind
Thirsty to get some shine, but bitch, you can't skip the line
And time won't even give you minutes, 'cause this shit is mine
You live that ad-lib life, with the unscripted lines
I kill em all, just ball, no evidence behind
My steps too complex, you can't convict the crime
I'm just a criminal, high to my last breath
In and out of cities pushing missies till no gas left
Street ballin, I was rushing out, n***a, my Timex
And I'm about that fucking scratch paper like a math test
That good shit is forming back, Rogaine
And they so plain I can't feel em, cocaine
When it's in the nasal and you're facially numb, mane
Snorting all them five dollar verses, them shits is chump change
I'm on my grind, that's some cliche shit
But if they see me anywhere, my enemies hate quick
Like, "He ain't even swag, n***a, he can't spit," and
"Everytime he come around we feel like we ain't shit"
Save the chit-chatter, it's money to get after
Cheating in the book of life, a n***a about to skip chapters
From flat broke to phat quotes, I'm a real bastard
And I smoke weed till I feel like a zen master
It's certified homicide, I'm a clit' master
High class pretty bitch basher, big kush asher
Told me, "Domo, you're the chosen one"
Convincing every single bitch that they the only one
This shit was cute even way before the song begun
If I'm not a real n***a, then show me one
But bitch, don't show me none