[Part 1: Don't Worry]

[Intro]
I, still got it, my n***a
Don't worry 'bout me, n***a
Never worry 'bout these n***as
Skill level on fleek, n***a
Out in South Beach where the weed
I came up that's how it seem
Shout out my big brother king

[Verse 1]
Tiller quit playing boy, you got this
Turn up on these n***as, make the knob twist
You know I've been going through a lot of shit
I gotta start thinking 'bout the positives
Came up on a check, I take it to the bank, deposit it
She hate when she tell me one thing and I do the opposite
That's just how I be when I be thinking 'bout the guap and shit
Like I give a fuck 'bout a hater hypothesis
If you putting money up, put your bands on him
That's your best bet, cause the man gon' win
If shit get outta hand, I put my hands on him
Damn, Tiller you went Super Saiyan on them
I'm about that action, put the cam on him
True, n***a all hell broke loose
Live from the motherfuckin' L-O-U
Doing numbers, getting numbers in my cell phone, too
Like viewer discretion
Come through with a weapon
My crew is the shit and your newest sewer the essence
I blew through the finish, ooh but you was in second
I'd do a song or two with you if you was impressive
Cut you a deal on it if that's what you were suggesting
You getting me too congested, I think I need Mucinex
Cause you sicken me, like "Can I get a freebie?"
Are you kidding me?
I gave your bitch a third of my dick, she want the trilogy
She feeling me
Never met nobody real as me
That's cause most of these n***as weak
Keep the shade coming, boy, you never offending me
And you better watch your bitch, cause yo that's my way of getting even
I call it tricking season, I ball like Reggie Miller
Never been a petty n***a, don't say that for any reason
N***a it's go time, been that the whole time
Really speaking, and n***as know I did it in no time, ay
I did it in no time ay
Trap$oul on the motherfuckin' way...
I gotta go on the motherfuckin' way
Lexington I'm on my motherfuckin' way
Young Tiller
[Part 2: Molly]

[Intro]
Molly
I got the trap, and the soul
I ain't just R&B, no no
Word
The sound fresh to death like so-so
Bitch I'm bound to get- bound to get next
So here we go, here we go!

[Verse 1]
I'm a young boy coming out the 'Ville (true)
This shit still don't seem real (no)
If I don't do it n***a, tell me who will (who?)
Young Tiller ball like Lucille (Luc'!)
Young Tiller keep it too trill
Went from Papa Johns, to popping up in your city
Now I got a piece of mind, I gotta keep a new bitch equipped
She from the islands
Trench coat mobbin', she want me to holler
I can't help it that I'm modest
And why these n***as lying? You just act like an Impala
When you should be more like nada
Yo, seriously, don't!
Versace my cologne, my city I put on
I did it on my own, bitch I'm more than just one song
Call me what you want, just don't call when I'm in my zone
Gotta put my phone on Airplane mode
All my n***as share they hoes, but I'm so stingy with bitches
Big bank in my britches, lit dank in my swisher
Get faded no clippers, I hang with them hipsters
Don't you compare me with any of these n***as