Bass Santana, Flyboy Tarantino, Kid Trunks & Craig Xen
Jahseh on My Wrist
[Intro: Bass Santana]
Uh, ooh
Too much dope, in all (Boy, patient, talk shit, Members Only shit)
Too much (Fuck 'em)

[Chorus: Bass Santana]
Too much dope, in all black, woah (Ooh)
Too much smoke, who tryna match? Like, bitch
Send that shit to me on Cash App (Wait, ooh)
Send that shit to me, no bounce back (Like woah)
Hit that, break that back like a Kit-Kat, uh
Kick her ass out the Airbnb
Flyin' high, you won't miss that
Jahseh on my wristband, miss me, huh
With all the bullshit, keep all the drugs, I'm litty, uh
Fix me, uh, you need the plug, bitch
I need a lick, shot wit' me

[Verse 1: Bass Santana and KiD TRUNKS]
Ok vool, bitch, but it's Members Only keep my goons lit
Voo bitch, who gon' run up on me, you a fool shit
We gon' school shit, you don't see my vision, fuck your movement
I'm fuckin' lucid (Uh), fallin' off the edge I just might lose it (Ayy, ayy!)

[Verse 2: KiD TRUNKS]
You can't feel our pain, they took our brother out the game (Huh)
Not in vain, but you will remember about his name (Ayy)
It's a lot of you rappers stealin' clout and chasin' fame (Stealin' clout)
I got some enemies (Huh), they will remember me (Huh, huh)
Smokin' weed in public, 40 deep sippin' Hennessy (Hennessy)
You got all the bitches that be givin' out STDs (Ew, ew)
Ali, Brandi, Christie, all my girls right like ABCs
Yes I drip, no I won't fuck that trick
I don't wanna lick (Huh), that's it (Huh), then pass that shit
You can't even cash that shit, I don't want a black-haired bitch like (Huh, huh)
[Chorus: Bass Santana]
Too much dope, in all black, woah (Ooh)
Too much smoke, who tryna match? Like, bitch
Send that shit to me on Cash App (Wait, ooh)
Send that shit to me, no bounce back (Like woah)
Hit that, break that back like a Kit-Kat, uh
Kick her ass out the Airbnb
Flyin' high, you won't miss that
Jahseh on my wristband, miss me, huh
With all the bullshit, keep all the drugs, I'm litty, uh
Fix me, uh, you need the plug, bitch
I need a lick, shot wit' me

[Verse 3: Flyboy Tarantino]
I got M's, really I'm on ten
Bitch, don't play with me, no friends (Uh uh)
I don't need no fake n***as crossin' me again (Oh no)
Pop out, watch me slide, Popeye spinach in them cans
Catch an opp out with no fire, we know how this story ends, uh (Damn)
Blood of my blood (What)
Flesh of my flesh (Uh)
Bust open his nose since a n***a wanna talk fresh, uh
I go, they go (What)
I flex, they flex (Uh)
Catch a buck 50, fuckin' with my MO n***as, we press
[Verse 4: Craig Xen]
I can't keep too many n***as 'round me 'cause they envious (Hm)
Movin' independently to keep the ambience
If I panic, I'ma do damage
And ain't no bandages gon' manage to alleviate leakin', and I'ma stand by that
I'll die by my word
Your pride could get you split up
Divided, and left to rest and piss on that curb (Hm)
My nerves bad (Huh)
I'm disturbed on the verse, so don't urge me (Hm, hm)
Ya heard me

[Chorus: Bass Santana]
Too much dope, in all black, woah (Ooh)
Too much smoke, who tryna match? Like, bitch
Send that shit to me on Cash App (Wait, ooh)
Send that shit to me, no bounce back (Like woah)
Hit that, break that back like a Kit-Kat, uh
Kick her ass out the Airbnb
Flyin' high, you won't miss that
Jahseh on my wristband, miss me, huh
With all the bullshit, keep all the drugs, I'm litty, uh
Fix me, uh, you need the plug, bitch
I need a lick, shot wit' me