Verse 1: Chetta
Magazine drop
The nine just jam but the choppa won't stop no
Got my whole block hot, whippin in the kitchen uh, got my wrist on locked woah
Gimmie whatchu got, taking what i need, who are you to tryna stop me
Gotti when i breath, xanax for the needs, hi-tech when im thirsty
Cup muddy, never sip clean
Neighborhoods love me like auntie in the fifteens
Switch schemes and i can still get it
Switch sides never that, they ain’t real wit it
Authentic my ways no need to prove shit
Got money for days, and still counting
Speaking of my name and talking down to me
No recognition, No fucks given

(Verse 2: Wavy Jone$)
Two blunts, too deep
Let em spark, whatchu know
I can't never trust a bitch
I ain't cuffing no hoe
All black ski mask
Slit wrist whos gone
Feel like god in the flesh
Im the next to the throne
Bitch i do what i want
Motherfuck cops
Blood red, drop top fuck an op
Fuck your boss, suck my dick, fuck your job
Fuck your name, fuck your clique, fuck your mob
Flexing down the 44, roller on my hand
Smoking bud the A1
Hoe i need more raw
More money, more cash
More digits on me
More pussy more ass more bitches on me
They know i got a pipe
But they can’t get it off me
They say i need another crown but they can't fit it on me
They only wanna see me down
Leave me dead and lonely
I got the devil on my shoulder i need a better homie
Sheesh