Lyrics: Lucki/Karon Malolm Vantrees
Music: Lucki/Karon Malolm Vantrees
Gang, gang
I'm on codeine lines, I ain't sniffin' nothin'
Work my ass off for this, this what Roscoe taught me
Pourin' mud every day 'cause I come from it
She gon' **** the gang, you gon' put a ring on it
I'm wrapped up in ice like my knees swollen
I'm wrapped up in ice like Durant when the game over
You could watch a movie in the V, this the newer version
This a mob meeting, we got caviar and bone marrow
I'ma put you down, that lil' shit right there got miles on it
I'm back at the bank, these folks really act like they tired of me
I feel like I madΠ΅ it, my idols say they proud of me
My lil' bro rich as hell, feel likΠ΅ I can retire early
Nigga, pick a side, can't be both of 'em
She text me paragraphs just to borrow money
These niggas be scared of jail, they turn to law enforcement
They keep tryna take my swag, these niggas aura farmin'
Ayy, ayy, ayy, I'm hot, I'm like a printer 'cause I'm made for it
I'm passin' out pape', they put me in they groupchat
My son be runnin' around like he a lil' made boy
Got so much pape' we trade, you wouldn't know what to do with that
I'm with a lil' hood bitch, she say it's givin' **** Tris
I know I made it, I can tell 'cause I'm by myself
I play act like I'm faded, but I sober up, send you to hell
Some hustlin' niggas raised me, I live life like a cell
In the mob, can't be yourself, geek up or be the help
I'm higher than the rest and richer than everybody else
Nigga prayin' for my downfall, you know you goin' to hell
I gave that ho a general admission, not no VIP
I think I'm gettin' worser and worser each sip
I put my bitch in Miu Miu, I ain't goin' no Lululemon
Don't touch my double cup, where the glass? Let's say cheers
My nigga gon' catch this bitch, but she still gon' kiss and tell
Gettin' geeked my favorite hobby now
Pushin' P in the booth, we Perc' a lot
Rob a goofy on some, "Check it out"
I go Birkin man bag, this shit fifteen thou'
Niggas be actin' like they steppin', shootin' with they eyes closed
Ayy, ayy, ayy, this shit started, she want Chanel, now she in the mafia
Wonder if it's no such thing as Zelle, how much they'd be proud of you
Can't be tricked by a jezebel lookin' for an audience
I made men and artists and you look like a target
Just got back from outer space and it was news to all of us
You gotta learn how to play your place, but you really lookin' proud of it
I got skis on the way, I got girls on the way
Top Ski
Huh, give me a beat