[Chorus: Yeat]
Scared to talk 'bout money when it's racks involved (Go, go)
They scared to say our name 'cause losing fans involved
I just walked up inside Prada, dropped a twenty ball, yeah
Every time I touched a bag, it's extra large amount
I peep all the shit you doing, tryna jack my style
Oh, hold up, "How the hell they do it? I'm tryna figure it out"
Sipping on motor oil, dirty-ass cup, almost look like brown
We ain't folding at all, gotta stay up, gotta hold my ground
Which one, the X or the Perc'? I can't decide
Got the Cayenne sitting outside in the sun, that bitch is fried
I don't be replying, got a whole lot to do, don't wastе no time
I ain't bragging, but I get paid now to sit down and rhyme

[Verse 1: Kankan]
That boy brokе as hell, we took a different route
N***a, I get paid to just sit down and talk
That boy, he gon' bring my name up 'cause it come with clout
And this ho, she know we way too up, they tryna figure it out
Yeah, that lil' ho know we too up, they tryna figure it out
Yeah, tryna figure out, took a different route, yeah
Took a different, took a different route (Yeah, that boy)
Yeah, that boy, yeah, he know me, he just want clout
Bitch, I been had racks since I was a teen
Yeah, n***a, I been off X, yeah, like all week
And a n***a sipping on drank 'cause it help me sleep
That boy ain't sipping on drank, he sipping on green
Yeah, I just fucked this ho, that ho on E
That boy dissing, turned his lil' ho to a fiend
Yeah, he tried his best, we still was not impressed
Everybody got racks but we make it look the best
[Verse 2: Yeat]
Why you capping 'bout them drugs? We not impressed
And this bitch head go back like it was PEZ (Yeah, pop her)
I take a lot of Percs, I take a lot of X (I be geeked)
I don't be listening to nobody, yeah, it's fuck the rest (Yeah, fuck the rest)
Yeah, this Jeep on jeepers creepers, two hundred on the dash
You don't be high as me, a hundred percent, I geek the best (No way)
She might drink up the nut or leave it on her chest (Yeah)
Yeah, y'all be fruit like chickens, yeah, like you got some breasts
Yeah, hold on, hold on, what the fuck? Yeah, I forgot the rest
Yeah, this the big baller gang, big baller chain
Yeah, I fuck my money up so much it told me that it came
They told me go and sign a deal, I'm too rich now, I can't
Yeah, pockets fat, walk with a limp, bitch, yeah, I got a cane

[Chorus: Yeat]
Scared to talk 'bout money when it's racks involved (Go, go)
They scared to say our name 'cause losing fans involved
I just walked up inside Prada, dropped a twenty ball, yeah
Every time I touched a bag, it's extra large amount
I peep all the shit you doing, tryna jack my style
Oh, hold up, "How the hell they do it? I'm tryna figure it out"
Sipping on motor oil, dirty-ass cup, almost look like brown
We ain't folding at all, gotta stay up, gotta hold my ground
Which one, the X or the Perc'? I can't decide
Got the Cayenne sitting outside in the sun, that bitch is fried
I don't be replying, got a whole lot to do, don't waste no time
I ain't bragging, but I get paid now to sit down and rhyme