[Intro]
𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘎𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘮𝘺 𝘨𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰…

[Verse]
Uh, I made somethin’ out of nothin’, yeah, I did it, boy, I’m focused
Ain’t no need to ask questions, ‘cause if I’m in it then I own it
Got a lot of problems, but bein’ broke ain’t ever been one
Everyone loses, it’s just a chosen few that win some
I execute fine all by myself, I don’t need a clan
I am who I am, if you don’t like it, n***a, leave it then
It ain’t a secret, fam, I need the whole thing
If I just wanted a slice, then I’d fuckin’ rob a pizza man
Believe me, I ain’t hard to find, n***a, that’s if you askin’ for me
And if it’s beef, I’ll call Milly, like “N***a, grab the .40”
You out your mothafuckin’ mind if you think hе won’t show up, bitch, and put in work like Dexter in his laboratory
I got bags that’s as fat as Rory
So I ain’t tryna hеar about what you had, that’s the afterstory
You takin’ my block over is like saying that my Lakers would’ve won the ring still with only Shaq and Horry
I’m ridin’ clean, I don’t need a roof
My music blastin’ in the air, still blowin’ kush but I ain’t Mila Kunis
My bitch is bad, you should see her too
And plus she got an aura that’ll make a n***a scream “Rita who?”
I’m eatin’ rappers, n***a, feed me more
I got the house on my team, this summer, bitch, hope you believe in yours
But shootin’ shots, actin’ like this fuckin’ scene before
Gon’ have yo’ homies talkin’ to yo’ ass through a Ouija board
My mama raised an animal
I deserve to be strapped down to a chair with a mask on like Hannibal
I’m sick, I need a sexy nurse, and a coat, a fifth of Ciroc, a couple yoppas, and that Magic Johnson antidote
Shawty nice, her ass thicker than a Snookie accent
“Where we goin’ after here?” is what she should be askin’
But she tryna find a man, so when it’s time for me to choose or ask they looked over n***as like Whooptie’s glasses
It cost too much to pay attention to them crazy rumors
Fuck if it’s all dead, nah, they should’ve paid me sooner
And now I’m forced to hit his block with ‘bout 80 shooters
And turn the hood into a train wreck, Amy Schumer
I let the nina spit, then I let the choppas sing
But I don’t gotta spell it out for you, that’s Flocka’s thing
A pocket full of Ben Franks keep your man fly
Who said the dead doesn’t talk? Pay your damn line
You might just catch a contact off the weed we passin’
I’m everywhere, you never there, n***a, Rebbie Jackson
Slide the panties to the side, shawty, easy access
‘Cause I ain’t come to play games, and you don’t see me laughin’ (Ha ha ha ha ha)
If I get any hotter, I’ma shoot me
I play my part well, but n***a, this beyond a movie
I’m slidin’ on blades like Kristi Yamaguchi
Only time I’m trickin’ off is for that bitch Rihanna’s coochie
Hands down, it’s been proven, I got the nicest flow
We talkin’ money over here, you n***as Tyga broke
I’m the best and I ain’t even have to say shit
Tell Vivica A. Fox, that was 50 to play with, n***a