[Verse 1: Hit-Boy]
Trap phone with a dead battery, I'm in charge
In the field getting to the marching bands
Camouflaged in a tank, war-ready every day, man
I'm in charge, I'm in charge, cue my intro music when I walk in
Off the ropes with the latest smackdown, Stone Cold Steve Austin
Use your left hand when you tap out
Let me tell you in advance now
I like my girl ass looking junky like she serve at a crack house
Shooting off the glass, back boy
Aspirations just to be the best, now we the plug
I'm finna shed a tear Kobe only got a season left
Modern like a seasoned vet
They said I would never see success
I do not see opponents, I only see the net
I can tell they paying off the refs
Give me a whistle and a pen striped shirt
All you foul n***as need a tech

[Hook: Hit-Boy]
Going Cam Newton on these n***as, goddamn, hit 'em with the flexing
Going Cam Newton on these n***as, goddamn, hit 'em with the flexing
Going Cam Newton on these fuckboys, like my n***a beat his cases
And he fresh out on the pavement, touchdown celebration

[Verse 2: Rich The Kid]
Trap phone, motorola
Real deal, coca cola
Break the pot, flip it over
Juug the plug for the yola
Rings on me like a champ
Big rack with a stamp
I put the cash in the paper bag
Momma she told me I'm livin' fast
If you ever been broke hold your Rollie up
I got a check just to fuck it up
We don't fuck with fake n***as
Coupe 'll pull up with two bitches
Dear lord, thank the lord
Broke, was sleeping on the floor
Juug, finessing, kicking doors
They was sleeping now I'm aboard
Came from the bottom, we legendary
I just drop the top when it's February
Pull up the ghost for the summer
Trappin' and cappin' doing numbers
[Outro: Hit-Boy]
We've been on this roll, let's travel for a while
Making sure that we got something to write home about
Now I'm on the flight solo headed to the south like birds in the winter
Like fuck the competition
Fuck the competition
Fuck the competition
Fuck the competition