Lyrics
Yeah, oh yeah
Yeah, got knocked off, but I got right back
All black Nike tech full of them racks
And the wrist on flood, why it look like that
That boy is a bitch, he ain't on that (nah)
We gettin' rich, you catchin' hats
Stock micro Drac' with the arm attached
I'm in an SRT, Glock right on the dash
On a normal street, but I put it in track
Ten bands, twenty bands, but I made one track
Push up, six deep, with the gang in the trap
Wrist goin' so hard, she don't know how to act
Wrist look like this, I don't know about that
Lil' bro dropped a diss, I ain't hear no facts
Lift up my heater, he burn like crack
Man, R.I.P. Virgil, Off-White on the max
Steak 48, I don't know Outback
My gas comin' live, got bro in a pack
All blue my hunnids, all of the racks
You want a feature? I gotta tax
Black truck, roll the window down, I'ma spin back
One peep 'bout the gang, won't recommend that
At 2nd Street with Chris not sack
Put the Scat and Track and I hope I don't crash
Yeah, ayy, oh yeah
Ayy, water
Woah, yeah, water
Yeah, ayy, oh yeah
Yeah, ayy, gang