[Intro: DJ Drama]
You n*s gon' learn today
D4
YMCMB, n*

[Verse 1]
Ugh, hammer on the dresser, work on the stove
I'm sitting on the counter blowing purp out my nose
Red bone naked, in the bed flexin'
I say, bitch, I ain't impressed you must've got the wrong impression, ugh
I ain't with the BS, I'm flyer than PF
Man, we living in hell like a deep breath
Real n***as with real money, real bitches with fake asses
If she don't wanna fuck, I get on my skateboard and I skate past her
Money on the table, guns on the table
Bitch, I'm on that syrup, tell that ho leggo my Eggo
And my girlfriend is a chopper, I finger-fuck that ho
Hello I am Tunechi: you had me at "hello," ugh
Drop-top Maybach, clean like Ajax
Man, I don't fuck with none of you n***as, like rednecks
We got that work so come and get if we dont know you, you pay tax
I put a hole in your apple—what that is? Apple Jacks, ugh
Pussy n***a, I'll murder you, then dance at your funeral
Blood, I'll have a n***a drinking his own blood: communion
Wake up like Bone Thugs, I'll call your bluff pick the phone up
Her titties fake, but they look real: cubic zirconias
Run up in your house, spare the kids and kill the grown-ups
Your bitch call me when she hot: Krispy Kreme doughnuts
Shoutout to my new hoes, shoutout to my old hoes
I still wear that ass out like a wardrobe
[Hook]
Bitch, what they gonna say?
Still eating rappers on my fucking lunch break
Bad yellow bitch with a tongue like a snake
I let her suck my dick and then I fuck her to some Drake
And then I let that kush burn, let that kush burn
Yeah I let that kush burn, smoking gasoline, bitch
The booth on fire, I'm in here getting higher
Young Money, bitch, we at the top like barbed wire, ugh

[Verse 2]
Money on my mind I ain't thinking 'bout no bitch
I'm talking bout that scratch like my muhfuckin throat itch, ugh
Stop stuntin'—if you ballin', buy your bitch somethin'
Stayed on the same team like Tim Duncan
Shit get real—if you're scared, go to Catholic school
And if we want it, straight jack it, like a padded room
Shoot your ass a hundred times and stand over you
Lil' Tunechi so fly I got arachnophobia
Burn bitch, AK in my firm grip
Leap if you feeling like Kermit, sermons
Preach reach and I smoke your ass like Cheech
I be faded like bleach; double-barrel: Siamese
I like my Swisher obese; fuck that bitch, like police
Fuck these haters with no grease; you get chin-checked: goatee
Money talks, bitch, and mine talks like Robin Leach
That lean got me slow as Lisa Turtle—ask Screech, ugh
Bank card heavy, my wallet like a barbell
My girl got a fat cat: I call that shit "Garfield"
We'll bring the O.K. Corral to your doorbell
We pull triggers not coattails, I make lump sums: oatmeal
I'm stuntin', getting new money
Trukfit money, Mountain Dew money, tell 'em
I get better like fine wine, I'm fire like cayenne
In the words of my n***a BP, "I'll hit a bitch with a car bomb—boom!"
[Hook]
Lil' bitch
N***as gonna talk they ain't talking bout shit
N***as gonna bark I go Mike Vick
Fuckin' fuck n***as on that fuck shit
Suck a n***a dick for some Trukfit
And let that kush burn, let that kush burn
Yeah I let that kush burn, smoking gasoline, bitch
The booth on fire, I'm in here getting higher
Holla at a n***a if you want that Oscar Mayer—Tune!

[Outro]
Hahaha
Dedication 4
Meek, Sean—fuck with me!