[Intro]
Bitch, you got so much motherfucking heart, bitch, swing
C'mon, swing, one- one more time (Don't touch my girl, mama, let her get down)
Swing, n***a, swing, swing (Just mop her ass up and get it over with)
(I bet she ain't doing nothing but talking)
Swing (She don't wanna get down)
Swing, that's all I want you to do, is swing (She bipolar)
'Cause I know you motherfucking crazy (She bipolar, girl)
Like, swing (Yeah, and get a check right?)
I don't know what the fuck you get and don't give a fuck
But I want you to swing (Yeah), if I have to whoop your ass on this goddamn bus, I-

[Verse 1: Lil Yachty]
I'm rich as a bitch and you not on my level, you digging, no shovel, I know you do
A million-one kids come up to me every day and tell me "Look, Lil Boat, I'm the younger you"
I eat on that pussy, thеn beat it, mistreat it, I'm recklеss, got gold on my necklace
My brother control all the blocks just like Tetris, he dropped out, the next day he made a killing
Free that n***a out the state prison
They fuck with Lil Boat 'cause the way I'm driven
I'm driftin' that six off the road
Bet a buck that my n***as won't fold
You a bitch and I know you a hoe, real n***a head to toe
Sock a n***a dead in front of his bitch
Dig a hole and drop him off in a ditch, bitch
Bitch, you keep fucking up like a glitch
Fuckin' fuck n***as hoes, that's my niche, beat his ass if he switch
Where he at, where he go? Prolly hidin' like a ho
Prolly trying to call his bro, I do not fuck with n***as, hell no
Beat his ass, bare paw
[Bridge: Lil Yachty & Tyler, The Creator]
Where they at? There they go
Where they at? There they go
Where they at? There they go
Where they at? There they go
Swing (Swing), swing (Swing), swing (Swing, bitch), swing (Bitch)
Swing (Bitch), swing (Hey, you got 'em Tyler), swing, swing (Haha, bitch)

[Verse 2: Tyler, The Creator]
I ain't really with the, "Shoot 'em up, bang"
Fuck them n***as, nah, they ain't gang, gang, gang, gang, gang, gang
And me and them n***as, nah, we ain't the same thing
Better hope boy gon' call up the troops
I know some boys that'll shoot out the roof
Shoot out the roof, yeah, shoot out the roof
'Cause my doors go up, I could shoot out the coupe
Speed off, we off, n***a, get off these nuts
Think T soft, nah, he hard
Got guns the size of Rick Ross' draws
Boy, you better go watch your tone
'Fore I get boys to watch your home
And watch your watch and take your wrist
And click-clack and clock your dome, boy
This ain't no real reason, we ain't got no treason
Fuck them missing knees in, knees in the business and breathin'
Boy, you'll be missin' and breathin' somewhere else
[?]
They be like "Where they at? There they go"
Body missing, no one knows, I don't know
My tax bracket made it so that I don't touch nobody
[Outro: Tyler, the Creator]
Inside a body, pada, with tada, body, ayy, tada, body, body
Fucking Prada and call somebody
Run me back