YES INDEED [MASH-UP]
[Intro: Tyler, The Creator]
I might just add a verse for no reason, fuck it
Ayo
[Verse: Tyler, The Creator]
I sit in my garden and play Stevie Wonder
And get foot massages while Clancy talk numbers
He threw me some game and I swear I won't fumble
Might cop me a Bronco to ride for the summer
Marni the trousers, tell Risso to holla
The carnival sell out, the stadium Dodger
Cut off some homies, but Taco my brodie
Until he score millions, I won't leave the goalie
Pass 'em the mittens, he never betrayed me
The E30 sitting, the LT my daily
The engine is stupid, I drive like a tutor
When I move, it moves, the transmission like Luda
Ketchup like packets, my new n***a pretty
Your new bitch is tacky like Busta Rhymes jackets
Want smoke? I can match it, that second-hand action
We exhale you inhale and asthma attack
Teeing off, n***as nauseous as fuck
Fuck you thought? Bitch, it's GOLF
[Chorus: Lil Baby]
Brand new whip got no keys
Tailor my clothes, no starch, please
Soon as I nut, you can gon' leave
Got M's in the bank, like: "Yes, indeed"
[Verse Outro: Tyler, The Creator]
This shit going crazy, I swear I go crazy
I never met him but man shout out Lil Baby
We running the thing *gibberish* I just ran out of words
[Verse 2: Juice WRLD]
Cool, run up on me then you catchin' a funeral
I scratch it off write it in Roman numerals
I fucked that bitch in the back and I swear that I never loved her I just want to hit her
I fucked that bitch now I'm hitting her sister
Run up on me you get spin like a twister
Told you before I don't fuck with these n***as
I got my hand on on my hand on my trigger
Imma go get 'em, she on my dick hoppin', I'm callin' her tigger
I tell her "go figure"
She [?], I’m talkin Hilfiger
Tommy on me, I ain't talking Hilfiger
That bitch a gun
Run up on me, I got heat like the sun
Count up to 2 cause I am not the 1, uh
Better locked up, Akon
All my other n***as they gone
R.I.P to all they souls, condolences to all they moms, uh
That’s just how it is
I’m in the bank, makin’ it flip, talkin’ that shit
I hit yo bitch just like a lick
I’m with the shits, I pass the 'Roc
Ain’t no assist, bitch on my cock
Run up on me then you get shot
I feel like [?], I got the Juice, back when the cut, callin’ it Pac, yuh
I’m in the cut with the nina
I’m wettin’ it up like this shit Aquafina
You run up on me then I’m servin’ em’ bullets like tennis balls
N***a ain’t talkin’ Serena
All of my n***as get money for real
I do money for shows, I cash out on arenas
I take yo bitch, fuck her
Send to the cleaners
Run up on me then I’m killin’
I swear that my hand on my nina
Don’t want no smoke
All of these n***as ain’t nothin’ but jokes
Run up on me like a.. like a Facebook post, lil n***a, you poked
[Verse 3: XXXTENTACION]
Ay, ay, ay
Smashin' on the pussy like a battle axe, uh
Got a bigger ass than a Cadillac, uh
Peanut butter drip, they got Cataract
Fuck his baby momma on a muhfuckin' yoga mat, uh
Hunnid phone, hunnid phone, backpack
Laughing at these n***as like I'm muhfuckin' Flapjack
I might just add a verse for no reason, fuck it
Ayo
[Verse: Tyler, The Creator]
I sit in my garden and play Stevie Wonder
And get foot massages while Clancy talk numbers
He threw me some game and I swear I won't fumble
Might cop me a Bronco to ride for the summer
Marni the trousers, tell Risso to holla
The carnival sell out, the stadium Dodger
Cut off some homies, but Taco my brodie
Until he score millions, I won't leave the goalie
Pass 'em the mittens, he never betrayed me
The E30 sitting, the LT my daily
The engine is stupid, I drive like a tutor
When I move, it moves, the transmission like Luda
Ketchup like packets, my new n***a pretty
Your new bitch is tacky like Busta Rhymes jackets
Want smoke? I can match it, that second-hand action
We exhale you inhale and asthma attack
Teeing off, n***as nauseous as fuck
Fuck you thought? Bitch, it's GOLF
[Chorus: Lil Baby]
Brand new whip got no keys
Tailor my clothes, no starch, please
Soon as I nut, you can gon' leave
Got M's in the bank, like: "Yes, indeed"
[Verse Outro: Tyler, The Creator]
This shit going crazy, I swear I go crazy
I never met him but man shout out Lil Baby
We running the thing *gibberish* I just ran out of words
[Verse 2: Juice WRLD]
Cool, run up on me then you catchin' a funeral
I scratch it off write it in Roman numerals
I fucked that bitch in the back and I swear that I never loved her I just want to hit her
I fucked that bitch now I'm hitting her sister
Run up on me you get spin like a twister
Told you before I don't fuck with these n***as
I got my hand on on my hand on my trigger
Imma go get 'em, she on my dick hoppin', I'm callin' her tigger
I tell her "go figure"
She [?], I’m talkin Hilfiger
Tommy on me, I ain't talking Hilfiger
That bitch a gun
Run up on me, I got heat like the sun
Count up to 2 cause I am not the 1, uh
Better locked up, Akon
All my other n***as they gone
R.I.P to all they souls, condolences to all they moms, uh
That’s just how it is
I’m in the bank, makin’ it flip, talkin’ that shit
I hit yo bitch just like a lick
I’m with the shits, I pass the 'Roc
Ain’t no assist, bitch on my cock
Run up on me then you get shot
I feel like [?], I got the Juice, back when the cut, callin’ it Pac, yuh
I’m in the cut with the nina
I’m wettin’ it up like this shit Aquafina
You run up on me then I’m servin’ em’ bullets like tennis balls
N***a ain’t talkin’ Serena
All of my n***as get money for real
I do money for shows, I cash out on arenas
I take yo bitch, fuck her
Send to the cleaners
Run up on me then I’m killin’
I swear that my hand on my nina
Don’t want no smoke
All of these n***as ain’t nothin’ but jokes
Run up on me like a.. like a Facebook post, lil n***a, you poked
[Verse 3: XXXTENTACION]
Ay, ay, ay
Smashin' on the pussy like a battle axe, uh
Got a bigger ass than a Cadillac, uh
Peanut butter drip, they got Cataract
Fuck his baby momma on a muhfuckin' yoga mat, uh
Hunnid phone, hunnid phone, backpack
Laughing at these n***as like I'm muhfuckin' Flapjack