[Intro: Prophet the Artist]
(Damn, Max, this one's too hard)
You know what the fuck goin' on, C Major, we major
Zoe, let's go
Ayy, ayy
Yeah
Uh, uh, ayy

[Chorus: Prophet the Artist]
Go and tell 'em how I'm back up off my shit
Go and tell 'em how this rapping got us rich
Go and tell 'em how this trapping got us lit
We was really out there posted up, no actin', this legit
Ayy, and tell my mama ain't no turning back, this it
And I got Vezzo in this bitch with me, on Crip
And ain't no youngins my way flexin' hard like this
And all the G's stamp my body 'cause I'm pressure out this bitch, uh

[Verse 1: Prophet the Artist]
Wait, don't end up on a stretcher out this bitch
She said she never met a n***a that could stress her out this quick
Uh, yeah, imagine me no check up out this bitch
Uh, yeah, my opps want mе the hell up out this shit
Ayy, ayy, but I can't go for nothin'
Ayy, stop that flexin' with your rеup, you can't spend that money
Them boys ain't gon' try that shit with us 'cause we one hundred
And they on go where I come from, bitch, fuck I look like frontin'?
They on some no guns in the club shit, they know I ain't coming
Before them tables really turned, I dreamed about us stuntin'
And I could get that boy put under for the cost of nothin'
Ayy, cuz, go and grab that grabba, I like my shit punchin'
Ayy, Vezzo, let's fuck the city up, you know we got the streets
Ayy, Stizzy, let's kick that door down, you know we don't need no keys
Ayy, I pull that pole out, you know I ain't finna go easy
Ayy, and I stay lowkey, can't trust n***as, they be greasy
[Chorus: Prophet the Artist]
Go and tell 'em how I'm back up off my shit
Go and tell 'em how this rapping got us rich
Go and tell 'em how this trapping got us lit
We was really out there posted up, no actin', this legit
Ayy, and tell my mama ain't no turning back, this it
And I got Vezzo in this bitch with me, on Crip (What?)
And ain't no youngins my way flexin' hard like this (Drank God)
And all the G's stamp my body 'cause I'm pressure out this bitch, uh (Yeah)

[Verse 2: Icewear Vezzo]
Got good green, pink, and blues, we the paperboys
Me and Jetto back to back on Forgis, we the Wraithy boys
Up that AR on lil' buddy, it's gon' make some noise
Forty on me, ringin' on my hip like a pager on me
Rollie water on my wrist, call it ice mountain
Put that heater on 'em in the club, I'm tryna spice somethin'
This IUR cost twenty-three, I got Mike on me
Told on every n***a in your hood, he got a mic on him
A hidden wire, I'm in them trenches with that shit on me
Young n***a with them M's, I'm richer than your big homie
I'm finna Karo me a n***a, put the mix on it
Take a three and put a six on it, it hit like fent' on it, uh

[Chorus: Prophet the Artist]
Go and tell 'em how I'm back up off my shit
Go and tell 'em how this rapping got us rich
Go and tell 'em how this trapping got us lit
We was really out there posted up, no actin', this legit
Ayy, and tell my mama ain't no turning back, this it
And I got Vezzo in this bitch with me, on Crip
And ain't no youngins my way flexin' hard like this
And all the G's stamp my body 'cause I'm pressure out this bitch, uh