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Fuck
Yeah (working, nine-three-two)
Yeah, uh
Took back the Porsche, I was drivin' too fast
Got caught in Carolina, now I gotta do court
Never ever, ever break bread to be layin' in a bed
With no bitch who ain't part of your story
Hermès blanket with the Hermès sheets (he hasn't slept in probably)
With the Hermès pillow, I'ma Hermès snore (like seven days)
Me and ian fire out your suite, we kickin' shit in
We kickin' your motherfuckin' door
Sleep on me back then, them folks done woke up
Back then I was poor
LeBron in my pants, I got Glock 23
I'm talkin' 'bout Michael Jordan
They be like, "ian, you been duckin', why is that?"
My bad, I tell a bitch, "I got bored"
She got no interest in learnin' about my past
That bitch wanna spend my money
Lil' ass deal just hit
You can bet your ass, he already spent that hundred (huh)
Skinny-ass pants, I can't even fit my bands inside these fuckin' Purple
Skinny-ass blunt, and I'm still gettin' high as hell
'Cause this shit fuckin' purple
Fine shit I got, this bitch fine as hell, she don't need no fuckin' surgeon
Y'all boys be like, "Damn, my bitch love ian, I can't fuckin' stand him"
I keep waking up lost again and again, I need some fuckin' answers
Shit been gettin' pricy with these brands, I start to fuckin' shoplift
Everybody gettin' geeked up on these drugs, everybody fuckin' pop shit
Me and ian done smoked too many blunts, man, inside the fuckin' cockpit
We perform this shit, we goin' crazy, get inside the fuckin' moshpit
Every 'fit I put on, this shit go crazy, niggas try to fuckin' copy
Every 'fit I put on, that shit look lazy, I'm still fuckin' ballin'
Took her out to eat, she ain't order that much
But she damn sure ate when we both got home
Lil' ho a ten, but she talk too much
I'm the only one ever that's told her, "No"
I know the ho was gon' come, when she brought one friend
I knew the lil' ho gon' go
I went out, I ain't gotta have a fire in my pants
I ain't gotta post at the store (go)
Youngin, I'm rich as hell, and my face card good in the streets
And I still get the bags for the low (go)
Yo, this a weak-ass beat (fye)
I'ma still run this bitch, 'cause I'm still tryna work on my flow (alright)
Semi-automatic, fully automatic
Young nigga hop out, look like a pro (grrt, grrt, grrt)
Niggas swear he got it, nigga never had it
I don't wanna hang with you, boy, you a ho (weak-ass beat)
(Alright) I'm really a bad influence
I shouldn't be hangin' with ian (I shouldn't be hangin')
I'm lookin' for fine shit, young nigga came with LAZER
And, no, I ain't talkin' 'bout beams (fuck, fuck, fuck)
Nigga, you dead wrong, why is you blowin' my phone up
Knowin' I'm high off the lean? (Alright)
Nigga tryna reach for the chain
I beat breaks off his ass, like Rodney King
Why the fuck I go last on the song?
The next time, nigga, I'm startin' the beat
Nigga, we safe in the hood, told ian, "You good
'Cause, nigga, you ridin' with me" (nigga, you ridin' with me)
I ain't gon' trip 'bout a bitch, can't trip 'bout a bitch
These hoes caught my dub and I pit (alright)
Dumb-ass nigga, and you never gon' make it off rappin'
That shit you've been droppin' is weak (weak-ass shit)