[Chorus]
Yeah, and I'm flexin', yeah, rock designer when I'm stressin', yeah
I just be countin' the fetty, yeah
Why is this bitch acting so petty? Yeah

[Verse]
But do I know, I don't know
Ice on my neck, I'm too cold
Telephone we goin' pose, I got margiela, I'm putting it on, yeah
Boy you not up, boy, just check up the score
That's not yo' bitch, go check your whore
They ask if I got them checks, of course
Put that bih, yeah, then I'm out and I'm stacking up, you not rich
Where the fuck is your racks, in my fit?
Yeah, my fit is so rad, and I whip
Yeah, and I whip on some cash, and I know, I be makin' them mad, yeah
Fuck it we puttin' on Carti
Walk in the club, I'm living my life, like a party
Pull up in LA, like I'm turnin', yeah
[?], yeah
Them bitches ain't showing me no love
In highschool I was getting dubbed
Now she tryna see me in the club, but really, I don't give a fuck
Yeah, I got rich on my own
My bros they [?] in the cone
I'm smoking some' good, and I'm gone
I'm ready, I'm ready to go
I need to see them hoes, I need owes, I'm rocking that show
Yeah, in the fast car in the 6 speed
My bitch, she too pretty, yeah
[Chorus]
Yeah, and I'm flexin', rock-rock designer when I'm stressin', yeah
I just be countin' the fetty, yeah
Why-why is this bitch acting so petty? Yeah