Lyrics: Tcorrian Walton/Jeffery Williams/Ryan Adams
Music: Tcorrian Walton/Jeffery Williams/Ryan Adams
[Chorus: Young Thug]
I'm uppin' the score if you playin' (Yeah)
You pussy, I'm showin' my ass (Yeah)
I could've had bought her a clutch (Yeah)
I got his ass whacked for a band (Yeah)
The **** is you talkin' 'bout? (Yeah)
You pussy, know right where you layin' (Yeah)
I don't care who with you (Yeah)
We flippin' the whole ****in' van (Yeah)
[Verse 1: Young Thug]
I told the ho, "Lovin', no lust"
I'm never gon' follow the trend
I showed her a million plus
And now the ho tell me I'm him
No trippin', I go grab the SIG (Yeah)
I'm drivin' the freaks on land
They found that boy feet in the sand (Yeah)
That's just what he get for that playin'
We servin' dope
Take care of the bitches and the folks
I keep it real for real
Ask God if I'm a player
Eighty-five pointer carats
You can take my bitch, you can have it (Huh)
When I'm poppin' this shit, I get raspy (Huh)
I'm sick at this shit with a passion
Got bricks in the mother****in' pale
I was tellin' her bitch-niggas real
I just spent a Bugatti on a trip
I'm a rockstar, I'm the deal (Let's go)
I'm one, I know good with the TEC (Yeah, let's go)
Let my young niggas eat off a plate (Yeah, let's go)
Told my driver to take me to space (Nigga, let's go)
I'm from [?]
[?]20k
I go Metro Bloomin the weed (Let's go)
I'm spicin' up, **** with the Track (Let's go)
I'm Spider, we trippin' on weed (Woo)
[Verse 2: Rylo Rodriguez]
I'll take some pints for a verse (Okay)
Copped me a thousand a Birk'
She left with heroin on my shirts
Shot that boy, turned into merch
I gave my lil sister [?] bag, my momma said it look like a purse
Don't ask about me, it's [?]
I ain't ask for the price, it's surgin'
Split hermes over her sound
Baddies with me, not the lil' 9
This year, I'm throwin' triumphs (Yeah)
Two semis, one on my arms
[Verse 3: Tezzus]
We up, bitch, you trippin'
We have our gun in the hand (Uh-huh)
Every time I wanted that man
We went and put on the mask
Now I wake up in Japan
You cruise, the mafia tax
Now I wake up to the bands
Count two hundred thousand in cash
Now I wake up to some head
The bitches hate me, talk to the hand (talk to the hand)
Lil bitch tryna give me face, I hit that ho, no date
Two whites still showed up late
Two lines, ain't buyin' my drank
Too much money, sippin' on Qua'
I don't even this bitch name
The **** is you talkin' 'bout?
I'm goin' Helmut Lang
I'm going AP, plain
I'm goin out of my brain
[Chorus: Young Thug]
I'm uppin' the score if you playin' (Yeah)
You pussy, I'm showin' my ass (Yeah)
I could've had bought her a clutch (Yeah)
I got his ass whacked for a band (Yeah)
The **** is you talkin' 'bout? (Yeah)
You pussy, know right where you layin' (Yeah)
I don't care who with you (Yeah)
We flippin' the whole ****in' van (Yeah)
[Outro: Young Thug]
Yeah yeah yeah, uh-huh huh huh
Yeah yeah yeah, uh-huh huh huh
Yeah yeah yeah, uh-huh huh huh
Yeah yeah yeah, uh-huh