[Intro]
Bitches mad 'cause they fucked the gang and still ain't got no clout
She don't like my song because she think it's her I'm talkin' 'bout
N***as mad 'cause I ain't reply, fuck what they talkin' 'bout
Usain Bolt, sprintin' to the bag, I'm tryna make it out

[Verse 1]
Human money counter, need my ends, could never short me
Poppin' shit, I been goin' up since a shorty (Bitch)
I been wearing Rick all week, these bitches givin' Morty
I ain't like his tone of voice, so I slapped him with the 40
I'm a work in progress, I got Carhartt on my jeans
And I can't fuck with bitches 'cause they always spill the beans
I ain't fuckin' on that n***a, I'm not comin' out my pants
And he working for the pussy, but he not gettin' a chance
I need access to your funds
I got on Chanel, she got on 1's
And I'll beat your ass, don't need no guns
And I leave his ass on seen because he only want the buns

[Chorus]
Bitches mad 'cause they fucked the gang and still ain't got no clout
She don't like my song because she think it's her I'm talkin' 'bout
N***as mad 'cause I ain't reply, fuck what they talkin' 'bout
Usain Bolt, sprintin' to the bag, I'm tryna make it out
[Verse 2]
All this shit is facts, it's off the dome, I put myself in Chrome
He blowin' up my phone, you mad at me, he won't leave me alone
Bottega on my feet, bracelet Elite, bitches can't take the heat
They thought this shit was sweet, she made a tweet, I pulled up on her street

[Chorus]
Bitches mad 'cause they fucked the gang and still ain't got no clout
She don't like my song because she think it's her I'm talkin' 'bout
N***as mad 'cause I ain't reply, fuck what they talkin' 'bout
Usain Bolt, sprintin' to the bag, I'm tryna make it out

[Verse 3]
She don't get the reference, it flew right over her head
If you hear some shit 'bout me, come ask me what I said
I'm not tryna be outside, I'm just tryna get the bread
And I ain't tryna fuck you, I will leave your shit on read
Anybody try me, I'm gon' put them in they place
Just ask **** how I punched her in the face (True story)
You spent all that on your frontal and I still can see the lace
And I'm smokin' on some gas that is louder than the bass

[Chorus]
Bitches mad 'cause they fucked the gang and still ain't got no clout (Bitch)
She don't like my song because she think it's her I'm talkin' 'bout
N***as mad 'cause I ain't reply, fuck what they talkin' 'bout
Usain Bolt, sprintin' to the bag, I'm tryna make it out (Bah)