Lyrics: Anthony Philips/Kamron Ford/Hagan Lange
Music: Anthony Philips/Kamron Ford/Hagan Lange
Only dream is just to be the greatest
Smoke m*******a, I love the fragrance
7 figures, man, this shit amazin'
Cartier lenses, I can see 'em hatin'
The sky's the limit, I stay lookin' up
If you don't know my name, then you can look it up
From the bottom, but I took it up
Still be trappin', my brothers, I hook 'em up
Heard it's a bag on my head, I ain't duckin' no beef
B***h, you know I'm still takin' the top off
My shooters ain't takin' no jumpers, they like to do lay-ups
We pull up and knockin' his top off
Oh okay!
Hot like the flex in that photo race
Sip act, I need like four more dranks
Big body, I need like four more lanes
Clutch the gang, I need like four more chains
Only dream is just to be the greatest
Smoke m*******a, I love the fragrance
7 figures, man, this shit amazin'
Cartier lenses, I can see 'em hatin'
The sky's the limit, I stay lookin' up
If you don't know my name, then you can look it up
From the bottom, but I took it up
Still be trappin', my brothers, I hook 'em up
Feel like I got scoliosis, b***h,
I get massages while ridin' around in that Maybach
If you say you want beef,
We ain't doin' no squashin', hell nah, we ain't doin' no takebacks
On the 'Gram wit' a row,
When I see you in person, you know we don't have shit, we take that
Don't want p***y, lil' hoe, where yo' face at?
D**k in her throat, yeah, I'm ****in' her face back
Face all my problems, I don't do no crime
I pop an addy, then pour up a lime
I'm on the gram wit' a Glock and a pine
I ain't stressin' and still fold my P.O
Knock knock, if you knock wrong,
Then we shootin' his ass through the peephole
Keep a .40 and it's holdin' a three-oh
C**k on my Glock, yeah, my Glock got a d********t
Rollin' my pockets, you notice we keep those
Heard it's a bag on my head, I ain't duckin' no beef
B***h, you know I'm still takin' the top off
My shooters ain't takin' no jumpers, they like to do lay-ups
We pull up and knockin' his top off
Oh okay!
Hot like the flex in that photo race
Sip act, I need like four more dranks
Big body, I need like four more lanes
Clutch the gang, I need like four more chains
I spent a wraith on my jewelry and still
Walk around with a whole bunch of bands on me
Know that boy, he ain't 'bout it,
He stay in the track, I can tell, when he see me, he ran from me
I'm too famous for trappin', I copped me a low,
Gave that straight to my bro, that's my brother's pack
Spent some thousands on guns just to get to the game,
B***h, you know I can't let none of my brothers lack
Ice on my body, I feel like a glacier,
Yo' b***h but she ****ed me, I swear I ain't make her
Ain't stressin' bout b*****s, I need me some paper
Squares in my circle, I bet they got boxed
Brand new Glock .40, I gave it a c**k
I can't go back to them days I was stuck in
Them chains, man I swear I hate sleepin' on cots
I do this shit for my brothers so they can
Quit trappin', I still see 'em sleep on the block
If I got a problem, they creep on the block
Know niggas pop, so I sleep wit' my Glock
In the waters, b***h I creep wit' my ride
I can't' do shit that a **** n***a
Do, Imma real nigga wit' a steel nigga
You get killed nigga just for lookin' wrong
**** you, I hope you took it wrong
Heard it's a bag on my head, I ain't duckin' no beef
B***h, you know I'm still takin' the top off
My shooters ain't takin' no jumpers, they like to do lay-ups
We pull up and knockin' his top off
Oh okay!
Hot like the flex in that photo race
Sip act, I need like four more dranks
Big body, I need like four more lanes
Clutch the gang, I need like four more chains