[Verse 1: 279tyler]
Pull up, I get him gone
Sippin' 2 cups, styrofoam
Model bitch, hittin' up my phone
Bro really pull up and take his soul
Bro really shootin' like free throws
Disrespect me, get that boy gone
Talking to me, better watch your tone
I'm on the perc, think I just flown
They wanna be us, they just clones
Had to make the money all my by lone
Cheese in my pocket, uh, provolone
I do not wear no Vlone
Put him in the sky, like he a drone
Where that boy go, that's unknown
Hey, I'm up in my zone
Still got junkies hittin' my phone
All the shit I've done, I can't atone
Bought a new Glock, yeah, it's two toned
Your bitch got my song, as her ringtone
One DM turn her to my hoe
I don't want her you can keep her though
I'm too focused on this dough
He dumb he got finessed with fake dough
He dumb on IG toting fake ass poles
That fake ass pint gonna kill you bro
I can't die till I've reached my goals
I think I got like too many hoes
But I'm still looking for some more
Four we don't pour that no more
Pour the whole then I'm taking off
[Verse 2: tayparadox]
Alright, let's go
Thought you could flex on me
This ain't no gang, this DWC
You want the smoke, A.C.O.G
What do you think? That I'm a D.O.G.?
I'm bout to send him to G.O.D
Pull up with choppas, that two twenty three Slayworld Soldier
Show up to his crib, like it's delivery
You off of the crack, think you better than me
Just tell the hoe, that you remembering me
Two double cups, pour it separately
Y'all n***as is funny like Letterman be
If you making bands of the crackpot
Run in his trap spot, then we take the racks from lil bruh
Digital bro need a trap spot, just need a stash spot
I make them bands off a cell phone
If it ain't bout the racks I'm gone
Run up in a god damn home
(?)
I'm flyer than a god damn drone
(?)
Step up off my throne
Leave him in the street like cones
(?)
I'm flyer than a bitch, you know how that go
I'm flyer than a bitch, designer on my clothes
What you gonna do when we slide on your block, with them poles
Feel like 2 Chainz cause I'm different when I meet these hoes
[Verse 3: Jayrachi]
Woah, I don't need these hoes, I be on my own
Count racks while I roll, yeah
She wanna suck my dick, don't bite it
This a freestyle I don't do no writing
Come and link up I don't do no typing
I mix Amiri with the Helmut Lang
You in the air try to snatch my chain
Mixin these pills I'm a go insane
All of these bills that's all on my brain
Me and my gang, ride with a K
Get out the way, we finna spray
You just a lame, I'm in first place
Don't you talk to me that way
I been on my own just, coolin', vibin'
These hoes want my dick, I'm not providing
You need guidance (you need guidance)
Couple bands, couple bands, couple bands
That's what I walk in with now
It ain't gonna be no trouble man, I'm just finna air this bitch out
Every time a n***a wanna diss, I pull up and he always wanna bitch out
Acting like I need to bring the stick out
N***a I will beat you with my fist out, yeah