[Intro]
You the best
No, you the best
(Come On P)
You are the best

[Chorus]
Fuck it, I'ma let the Benz park itself, n***a
Pocket full of bread, this that patty melt, n***a
I’ma get rich and let 'em kill theyselves, n***a
I could take that bitch 'cause her man the help
I be on that Michael Phelps shit, swimmin’ on the wealth
I be on that get your brother hit and put it in a verse
On this twenty-four hour drive, I gotta pray first
If you scared, go and get a job, n***a, go to church

[Verse 1]
Anti, yeah, I'm on that drank, I got an attitude
Whеn birds fly, I can make them motherfuckеrs chirp too
I'm half-blind, boy, I'm like Urkel with a big tooth
I'm that rap god, n***a, that'll strip you out your shit too
Huh, deadstock, put him in a box, knock him out his boots
Redeye, 12 o'clock flight, thousand fake blues
Mama told me, "Make that paper, n***a, don't let it make you"
Mama said, "Any n***a try to play you, send him to Jesús"
Counted a quarter mil’ with lil’ Cali, that's my daughter, though
She said she feel just like her daddy with her Rollie on
Trafficking, man, I’m on my ninety-eighth rodeo
Huh, mannequin, man, I left thirty in the Louis store
Hundred on my head, that let me know you n***as real broke
Free world, 'posed to been dead, but you n***as choked

[Chorus]
Fuck it, I'ma let the Benz park itself, n***a
Pocket full of bread, this that patty melt, n***a
I'ma get rich and let ’em kill theyselves, n***a
I could take that bitch 'cause her man the help
I be on that Michael Phelps shit, swimmin' on the wealth
I be on that get your brother hit and put it in a verse
On this twenty-four hour drive, I gotta pray first
If you scared, go and get a job, n***a, go to church
[Verse 2]
Mob ties, bootleggin' dope, Bandman Capone
Allah, play me like a ho, that's where you gon' go
Tada, make 'em disappear like a fuckin' ghost
Drive-by, boy, we slam doors, what the fuck is those?
Shout out to my Mexicans, n***a, for all this coke
Shout out to my Africans for diggin' up all this gold
Titanic, man, I'm the n***a that crashed the boat
Below sea level with this Yacht-Master II on
These rap n***as really like my sons, I need a group home
Hundred packs in, sorry to my fans for no new songs
Bens Simmons, twenty-five P's of that window
Boy, all that cloudy-ass ice, you need a Brillo
Boy, y'all n***as been hungry all y'all life, y'all some hippos
Uh, this year, I poured forty-nine pints like I'm in Frisco
Yeah, I'm still bustin' rhymes and makin' white flip more
Now I don't nickel and dime every thirty-six O's

[Chorus]
Fuck it, I'ma let the Benz park itself, n***a
Pocket full of bread, this that patty melt, n***a
I'ma get rich and let 'em kill theyselves, n***a
I could take that bitch 'cause her man the help
I be on that Michael Phelps shit, swimmin' on the wealth
I be on that get your brother hit and put it in a verse
On this twenty-four hour drive, I gotta pray first
If you scared, go and get a job, n***a, go to church (Come On P)
[Outro]
N***a, talk that shit 'cause I
N***a
Yeah, I talk that shit 'cause I