[Intro]
(It's a Wayne beat)

[Verse 1: PM Capo]
P.O. textin' my line
Sayin', "It's 4:29, you ain't check in on time"
I said, "It's only 4:29, stop botherin' me, man"
I told his ass stop cryin', I was gone off a pint
Then checked my other jack, this bitch, she was blowin' me up
She say, "You said come over, Capo, stop showin' me up"
I said, "If you ain't talkin' nachos, you holdin' me up"
At the strip, be feelin' like El Chapo, we throwin' up dubs
If a n***a say he want a problem, we throwin' up snubs
My bitch wanna be toxic and throwin' up subs
Her ex be talkin' hot, so I show him I be blowin' for fun
Opps be in the party prayin' hard like, "I hope he don't come"
I was in the party prayin' hard like, "I hope he don't run"
Stay still, I'm tryna head tap 'em
Shit real, I can't get in your car if you don't park backwards
Bitch, chill, get out my inbox, I'm not gon' heart that one, bitch
You give me treesh vibes
N***as hit me for an eight, but I shorted him three lines
N***as hit me for a six-trey, I cut it like three times
N***a kept callin' me Caypo, I booked him like three times
Ayy, I'm on a different level
I ain't just jumped off the porch, on God, I been a rebel
I ain't no sucker, you'll get torched tryna get disrespectful
Brodie just— off the porch, last week, he had a red one
[Verse 2: Louie Ray]
Brodie just jumped off the porch, he tryna— okay
Brodie just jumped off— ah, ah
Brodie just jumped off the porch, but he brought a shovel
I said, "How many n***as tryna kill me?" He said, "Several"
Damn, okay
If I can't, FN'll catch 'em
Okay, the streets really didn't, but this rap cheese done blessed you
Cool on a bitch, I ain't found one I can invest in
Naw, I ain't by myself, go and count us as you step in
It's a million strands of weed, I still probably blow the best ten
I'm in Detroit right now, but on the west end
And I could pull to Yachty crib, ain't gotta check in
If you think you gettin' money, go and flex then
Done came and got love, bro think they lookin' at me next then
I love jewelry, tryna see how fast the check spend
And you can tell these Travis Scott Nikes 'cause the checks big
The way these hoes chase a n***a down, they think my head big
But it's not, only my pockets and my bed big
I was touchin' heroin so much, it had my hands big
I was sellin' dope, never thinkin' I could scam big
I don't think I made me this shit, feel like my fans did
And I ain't even gotta say shit, I bet my fans is
How a n***a that's gettin' help helpin' you? You like a grandkid
You know that I'll blow some shit away because the fan's big
[Verse 3: Rio Da Yung OG]
I knew he was tryna run off 'cause his pants big
I knew the bitch had some good pussy, she got ten kids
I just poured a whole six of red in a Big Red
If you really from the hood, how crack smell?
Real lean sipper, n***a, I can get Act' still
I know the beef twelve years old, he gettin' whacked still
Finna fuck a bitch for four hours off that black pill
I was gettin' money back then, that's a fact still
N***a ran up on the gang, got his cap peeled
Yeah, I got a gun, but I can scrap still
Yeah, I'm plugged on the cough syrup, I get Act' still
Last week, I hit Chicago, I'm in the 'Raq still
Black on black coupe, call me Batman
All he sell is three-fives, he the pack man
My uncle only fifty-five, he a crackhead
Don't get your lip bust, head smacked in
Six cups of Kool-Aid, I'm a Black man
N***a, I'ma keep spinnin' 'til the MAC spin
The street shit crazy, I looked up to a crackhead

[Outro: Rio Da Yung OG]
Ghetto Boyz shit, n***a, you know what the fuck goin' on
My motivation sold dope in the hood, he ain't play ball
I'm just waitin' on some drank to call
Yeah, n***as know what the fuck goin' on