[Intro: Montana of 300]
Pussy ass n***as saying I ain't got no bodies haha
They gonna make me go back to the old me
WOO

[Verse: Montana of 300]
Mask off, you n***as mad soft
"Please help me God", that's gon' be your last thought
I shoot 'em up like a rocket, blast off
I'm on your ass after I blast, I do the dash and smash off
That road is dark, asphalt
Get nailed like Jesus if your pussy ass cross
I see through that shit you talking, like a fuckin' glass jaw
And you should take a fucking bow, you rappers actors, Shad Moss
The price to win is to go work your ass off
If you don't get it, I'm gon' get it, you gon' get your ass moss'd
If you still looking for God, well, that's because your ass lost
He's within you, y'all don't get it like a fucking bad toss
No longer broke like I just took my cast off
Before the fame, bitch, I been and had sauce
Pounds of dro, I had to get that gas off
I used to pray on the highway that I don't get my ass caught
I left the trap, took off a rap, I splash sauce
$2800 what my Gucci bag cost
Come take a picture, I'm so bright that you could take your flash off
I treat your bitch like a baton, she will get hit then passed off
I know you sick and you nauseous
Imposters mock us, they not us
Same n***as always hating, always watch us
Fuck n***as tryna knock us, won't prosper
Word to my mom, I'm 'bout drama
You won't rob her son, I'm not Oscar
You n***as sweeter than peach cobbler
Space Jam, my roster's got monsters
Shoot like Spike Lee coming with the choppas
Might be slightly off of my rockers
Might pop your medulla oblongata
Shots turn you flodgers into dodgers
Leave you lyin' there dead, like Mufasa
My lyrics liver like shather
Every beat I touch gonna get conquered
I go unconscious, I go bonkers
I snap like lobsters, rap god
I got way more flavour than mambas
Fly 'til I die like La Bamba
They see my swagger persona
Wanna jack it like a bomber
My own logo on my joggers
Lots of green on me like Blanca
My pockets fatter than E Honda
I'm about my business, come proper
Labels can't call me like Shaka
My words can heal like a doctor
My guns turn dreads into pasta, uh huh
Talking like he gotta steel body
Out of arms reach, they be real cocky
3 gun cases, steel still by me
Real tear drops got real bodies
When I pop his ass like a lil Molly
They gon' claim I hit him, no Bill Cosby
Leave his head red, drop dead Fred, they gon' think somebody killed Lil Yachty (Yachty)
Cut out the flexing, you ain't built, you ain't a wrestler
But kick it off and I'll return it, Devin Hester
I put that steel on you pussycats, like Sylvester
Blowing like a ref like I'm showing 'em how that tech work
Your girl probably never told you that I f'ed her
She sucked my dick, so you know I know how that neck work
The way her neck jerk I swear she was an expert
I promise I could make her give my crew neck like a sweatshirt
Dick-riding, obviously you're the expert
You probably cum on yourself if I told you "let's work"
And since my name on the song, it'll be your best work
We are not the same, you lame, go check my net worth
Stop barking, n***a, I'm Jordan Pippen
Your pussy ass ain't starting, n***a
I'm pulling up and I'm parking, n***a
Hoppin' out and I'm sparking, n***a
Cold with the Tommy, put a funny n***a
On TV like Martin n***a
When I cross his ass, I'ma drop his ass
Then cook his ass, James Harden, n***a, ah!