[Intro]
B-B-Bankroll Got It
Keed, talk to 'em
[Chorus]
My hitman don't take a day off (Yeah, yeah)
My hitman don't take a day off (Slimeball)
My hitman don't take a day off
My hitman don't take a day off
[Post-Chorus]
Yeah, this drum is an 808
And it's sittin' on the bottom of a .308
Huh? I don't really know how to argue
But you know I eat beef, I'ma kill the altercation (Keed, talk to 'em)
[Verse 1]
Fuckers, yeah, I'm drippin', I style on these motherfuckers
All this jewelry, I can't hide from your baby mother
She a real headhunter, she eat the rubber (Damn)
Too much Cuban links on me, my neck is cluttered (Ha)
Told my daughter, "Don't worry, you know you covered"
Shе be jumpin' on the bed with thе Fendi covers
I got rid of them boys who ain't really love me
Now you can't call 'bout your fuckin' money (Ho)
Yeah, I'm too blessed for 'em, so I went and went and got rich
I got a Rolls truck, yeah, the Cullinan
Yeah, when I feel like [?] on a bitch
Yeah, they know I'm as hard as it get
I'm hard as a brick, came from the bricks
Yeah, if a rap n***a diss, he get hit with that stick
It'll be more than a rhyme that you spit, ha (Brr)
Why these n***as be hatin' on this shit? They know I'm the top of the list
Yeah, I put the hood on my back (My back), then went and took me a risk
Three-sixty-five how many times a young n***a changed up the wrist
Yeah, I can't even count how many times you came right back to my dick (Okay, let's go)
[Chorus]
My hitman don't take a day off (Yeah, yeah)
My hitman don't take a day off (Slimeball)
My hitman don't take a day off
My hitman don't take a day off
[Post-Chorus]
Yeah, this drum is an 808
And it's sittin' on the bottom of a .308
Huh? I don't really know how to argue
But you know I eat beef, I'ma kill the altercation (Keed, talk to 'em)
[Verse 2]
No, I don't cap, I style on these motherfuckers (No kizzy)
Drop a 30 in a mall, I'm swishing buckets (30)
F&Ns that I'm toting, yeah, they'll kill discussion (F&N)
And these slimes I run with, they'll kill your buddy (Slatt)
Send yo' shooters 'round me, yeah, I'm real ugly (Shooter)
Michael Vick with my dawgs, it can get ugly (Vick)
Two hundred thousand on bullets, man, fuck it (Ah)
Put that fire in his mouth, tell him, "Suck it" (Grrah, grrah)
It could be a face shot (Squeeze)
Yeah, these n***as want beef (Let's go, let's go)
Yeah, it's really nothin' to talk 'bout
Nothin' but slimes when I pop out
This YSL shit, ain't nothin' bigger (YSL)
I'm makin' one call, he get shot like a missile (On God)
I'm in the bank with so many Ms (Bank)
Young n***a with figures, they callin' me Mr. (Figures)
They send a drop, and it's dead drop (Drop)
All my lil' partner'nem serve raw (Naw)
Yeah, came from Jonesboro Road, I was stuck in the back like the pedal (Keed, talk to 'em)
My folks ain't doin' no talkin' (L), yeah, shh, shh, yeah, they better (Shh, shh)
Yeah, big chopstick, yeah, F&N, nah, ain't no Berettas (Woo, yeah)
[Chorus]
My hitman don't take a day off
My hitman don't take a day off (Slimeball)
My hitman don't take a day off (Yeah)
My hitman don't take a day off
[Post-Chorus]
Yeah, this drum is an 808
And it's sittin' on the bottom of a .308
Huh? I don't really know how to argue
But you know I eat beef, I'ma kill the altercation (Yessir)
