[Intro]
New York Stand The Fuck Up!

Ayo
This week Rari, next week Lambo
Bitch I'm flying, I don’t lando
This they, funeral
Start the service
Say my name
Make en, nervous


On the real, n***a, I'm a real n***a
I run around with them real n***as
Got real sons, I need a real sitter
When I leave n***as, they get real bitter
O-o-o-on the real, n***a, I'm a real n***a
I-I-I run around with them real n***as
E-e-eight mil’ on that new thing
Tied up like my shoe string
Ain't fuckin' wit' you bitch n***as and that's real rap, but I do sing
Make room when I come by
Ain't speakin', I'm dumb high
Just heard n***as got jokes, it’s a matter of time before one dies
It’s a MAC, fact, I'm in the black ’Bach
We never lack, lack with that strap (Ooh)
I'ma drive through but if you back, back
It's gon' clap clap and that’s that (Ooh)
I never tap tap if I don't like a ho
You act act like you like her though
Never backtrack if I ain't fuckin' with you
Can't sit with us but you might can go
All my pretty bitches, high-saditty bitches
Got a milli' bitches on go (Go)
All these silly bitches, I'ma kill these bitches
Yo Pop, who the fuck want smoke? (Brr)
Keep-keep it real, you really mad
'Cause your baby dad used to like me though (Ooh)
I-I ain't fuck him 'cause I ain't want him
Told him, "Take a hike like a hiker" though
This Givenchy is custom made, now you can't get it at Saks though
I don't work in no office, but they copyin' and that's facts though
I ain't tryna be violent, but if Nicki on it, it slaps, ho
Get you lined for that paper like a loose leaf when that strap blow
I'm with a couple bad bitches that'll rip the party
If Quavo the QB, I'm Nick Lombardi
Pull up in the space coupe, I done linked with Marty
I can actually afford to get a pink Bugatti
"Ayo, Nick, didn't you just do a hit with Gotti?"
That too, but my n***as send hits like Gotti
It's a wrap, like the things on the head of a Saudi
Bitch, you my son, go and sit on the potty
These? Nah, that ain't Reebok
We back on that Ewok
Percocets, gotta detox
Firearms gon' get restocked
Shooters hittin' that G-spot
Bitches imitate, please stop
Suck his dick like a freeze pop
First, he gotta give me top (Brrt)
Ain't yellin' cut, when it's shootin' time
Sign up, it's recruitin' time
Big wigs, with a suit and tie
And them big things got two inside
Fuck wrong wit' these ho n***as?
Don't do coke, I don't blow n***as
I don't tell n***as, I show n***as
And it's never less than like four n***as
(Four-four) Four wings and some french fries
Hot sauce and ketchup, n***a
He telling and he hiding
But real n***as still catch a n***a
Co-cop 'Raris, I don't test drive 'em
Home theaters, can't Best Buy 'em
These n***as that I roll with
Don't let a single thing get by 'em
Ki-king pins and them drug lords
Chi-Chi-Town, no gun laws
Broke bitches that talk shit?
Now them the bitches I stunt for
Pussy ass little rap n***as
I fucked with real trap n***as
Pop star, i-icon
But I send n***as, come snatch n***as
I'm with EBK, you on EBT
Got a black nine, call it BET
School n***as, get a GED
And I tease n***as, make em B-E-G
Got a money fetish, I'ma fly to Venice
Got a big house, I can play some tennis
Lil Herb, what's good?
I'm a bad bitch and I fuck good