[Intro: KrispyLife Kidd]
Hold on, layed it back side of things n***a
Alright
KrispyLife
Aye

[Verse: KrispyLife Kidd]
For Halloween, I'll drop four onions in a kid bag
This the newest Glock, the one you got, that gen trash
Slide on a barbeque, fuck it up, granny hitting grass
Missed a couple sales, I was horny, I was getting ass
This a big engine, not that shit that you riding on
Put a hush on the front of this bitch, get the sound gone
Yo chain, looking real dilly' what's them, rhinestones?
Say the wrong shit on one of your songs and get fired on
My girl daddy got the talking too loud and got fired on
Dropped a hundred shots in one night, that's a milestone
Took them shots and survived bro, you was in the Jesus section
Catch me in yo local mall in the Yeezy section
Heat seeker on the chop, this'll eat a necklace
I bought this with dope money, this a evil necklace
According to my granny though
Bitch caught me in the act, I put my hoe out the patio
Crack yo motherfucking shell, pistachio
I know who dick suck the most, let me call the goat
Walk in Gucci, they greet me by my first name
In the club with a blade, the opps gon' need a first aid
Reflective Off-White, the light hit, my shirt change
.223s hit his white tee and watch his shirt change
How the fuck you say you a hustler, you ain't never had an ounce
My chain shining, real bright like Waffle House
Drunk too much lean, I woke up with the cotton mouth
Chop his crib, now the couch ain't shit without the house (aye)
[Verse: Roadrunner TB]
I be talking dogshit, but it's all Fick
Quarter brick, put it in a blender til' it's all hit
(?) juice and dogfood, that's a strong mix
Get the press and put it back together, that's a strong grip
Aye, where you at? I could get there
I damn near be in the kitchen more than silverware
Seven days a week, I'm in the trap, I damn near live in there
Quick to go and put some shit together like it's Build-A-Bear
Fans want a picture, TB handsome Squidward
Dance with his sister, fuck then I lift her
California, I'm donating bands to the strippers
I don't worry about shit, my name good like a scripter
If you really tryna' spin, I could send it in
A lil' extra with the tester, just to reel you in
Hundred bowls sold, do that shit again
The only thing on my mind is how to fucking win
Tryna leave the streets, lord be with me Imma' trap n***a
Rapping don't work, I'm going back, I'm in the trap with it
Lean, pounds, and food on one jack bitch I trap different
Like to fuck hoes with boyfriends cause' they act different
I thought them n***as used to front me cause' them n***as love me
They only front me cause' they see I'm money
Crackheads, pops had the spot filled with junkies
Years later, I got Fentanyl in Covington, Kentucky