[Chorus: ScHoolboy Q]
Me no conversate with the fake—that part
All my bitches independent bitches—that part
I just want the paper—that part
All my bitches flavored
That part, that part, that part, that part, ayy

[Verse 1: Jay Rock]
It's impossible to love it, if you don't come from it
It's things that goes on, you just can't stomach
I seen it all happen, but I ain't sayin' nada
Peep, 24/7 in the hood it's hot
If you wanna fall through, get Top on the phone
He don't pick up then it ain't bool
Let you know it ain't good to stop
That part, that part (That part)
I'm a Watts n***a and we not kosher
Shit, n***as only concern is the bottom line like a stockholder
This is where they come, where they cop them boulders
Hoes catfight with their tits exposed
Still sippin' on that Wild Irish Rose
Still rock swap-meet designer clothes, ah!
Black MAC 11 in my mattress (Woo!)
Make a hundred racks do a backflip (Woo!)
Might go Uncle Luke on them hoes (Ho!)
Pussy pop for a bankroll (Yeah)
All my killers with me got a blank face (Yeah)
On that "Fuck you, bitch, where the pay pay?"
Make 'em pull up on your block with them 223s
Aim it at your face, hey
Movin' with the rock and the Glock concealers
You either sellin' rock or you flock to get it
You either on the watch or the clock is tickin'
The life of my Watts and my Bompton n***as
Get pinched, I'ma post a bond
Know P.O.P. gon' hold it down, look
Need cash, gotta get you some
If a hater tell you money ain't everything
He don't want you to get none
So we thuggin' like DMX, bleed shit, PMS
Point blank, period, meet me on the ES
I'm fully with the BS, believe that!
[Verse 2: Kendrick Lamar]
And we don't stress
A .38 'til it free your chest
Then PP on the PO's desk
I'm JAY-Z in a blowout press
Relate me to your blowout's best
Can't hate me, I'm remote you're deaf
I'm HD, causin' photo theft
My AC antifreeze gotta—that part
Hold your breath, I'm 8 feet when I hold this TEC
Protect me from the local threats
My ID say my eye don't rest
My IV qualify T-Rex
Society kept my IQ vexed
Denyin' me from an Ivy school
Applyin' me to the street I slept
I quietly had to hold this tool
Reminding me of the block I repped
The turf I stepped, the church and the earth I blessed
The first I guessed the alert was the murk I chef
That hearse the flirt with perks of a kill confessed
Dispersed the worst, the first 48 addressed
The search of laws and verse of the birth I nest
The—uh, the awe, the curse of a pose in zest
The good, the flaws, the pain to reverse what's left, uh
[Chorus: ScHoolboy Q]
Me no conversate with the fake—(Hahaha)—that part
All my bitches independent bitches—that part
I just want the paper—that part
All my bitches flavored
That part, that part, that part, that part, ayy

[Verse 3: Ab-Soul]
Zest god, zest god, zest god, zest god
Yamborghini high, cream soda with the Wockhardt
Soulo Ho3 the prophet, yeah, Soulo hold the profit
That's the fortune teller makin' withdrawals and deposits
Ironic, they wanna know where I've been in
Where the fuck I've been hidin' in
When the fuck am I droppin' that
New work that take 'em to church and
Turn the universe upside down again
Since you're so smart
I can't get in my groove 'til we get the Q first
Do what thou will not
Yo, my pool of thought large enough to part the Red Sea
Father forgive 'em for they know not know who they see
I got all eyes on me, call me 3Pac
Soulo

[Interlude: ScHoolboy Q]
Hang on, n***a, let me get some
Hang on, n***a
Hang on
[Verse 4: ScHoolboy Q]
Made a mil' and I spent it in the same day (Day)
Got a chopper, not the AK (Ayy)
Gettin' money on a vacay (Hey)
Go go gadget's in the driveway (Driveway)
Groovy Tony in July 8th
Yeah, I'm killin' kitties on a Sunday (Ayy)
How you ballin' in a Hyundai?
My Ferrari got a toupee
Swerve in the big body
Your favorite artist, I'm his big homie
Yeah I'm walkin' with a fifth
And I ain't votin', I'm a Crip, homie (Yeah)
I'm where them Bloods, where them Locs at (Locs at)
Where the blood, where the choke round
Gloves for the combat (Combat)
How the feds in your contacts?
How the feds know my set name?
Fled in the Mulsanne (Ayy)
Hydrate up the rap game
Heard Soulo comin' up next
And SZA got a classic, n***a
Heard Zay just got it mastered, uh
The fire burnin' through the plastic
So fingers to the badges (badges)
They don't love you 'til the racks evolve
When I was broke they wouldn't accept the call
Now they on me for my decimals
Blank Face has gotta X 'em off
Enemies gotta bob and weave
Gangbangin' like we stand for somethin'
When Alton Sterling gettin' killed for nothin'
Two cowards in the car, they're just there to film
Sayin' #BlackLivesMatter, should've died with him
Wrong n***a in your hood, you gon' ride on him
White n***a with a badge, you gon' let that slide?
Tell me how they sent that footage off and slept that night
I feel bad that my daughter gotta live this life
I'll die for my daughter, gotta fight this fight
Put a Blank Face on, n***a, let that drop
That—that part