Top Rapper

You see these deadstock kicks? I ain't get 'em from the mall (I ain't get 'em from the mall)

Lil' 'Sace belt, keep a pair of Ethis for the drawers (keep a for the drawers)

She lookin' at me now, sound like round of applause (goals)

These bitches say I'm poppin', say my locs gettin' long (go, go, go)

Wasn't fuckin' with me, I was on my ass, bitch, you wrong (bitch, you wrong)

Nigga speakin' on his bag, we gotta get him gone, ayy (get that nigga)

Slim thick bad bitch, Nia Long (ah)

Bitch, I'm klocked in this bitch, Cheech & Chong (bitch, I'm klocked)

I'm gon' fuck, now she need some Blues Clues, bitch, I'm gone (I gotta go)

I remember days tryna bust a trap all alone (ayy, I'm to the neck)

Eyes on the road, don't answer on no phones (don't answer on no phones)

I'm the shit, now I always talk shit on microphones (talk shit on microphones)

Two-steppin' in my mode, on my whoadie, he gon' go (I miss my brother)

I think I love Givenchy clothes, I'm off this dog, got me slumped (nigga, don't get smacked)

I ain't playin' limbo, bitch, my eyes gettin' low (I'm in here klocked)

Gang task pulled me over, said, "Sir, we smell smoke," ayy (we smell smoke)

Ayy, you got a wack jumper

All that pillow talkin' on the 'Gram and you ain't slap nothin'

You know my niggas in the building, you see racks bustin'

And I'm smokin' dope before my shows like I'm David Ruffin

Baby gettin' thundered off this contact

You ain't talkin' blues, lil' baby, we can't contact

Bitch, I'm right through that road like a lineback

And I'm tryna hit your old lady, where your mom at?

I got Pippi Longstocking in the compact

Just got off the phone with Lil Boat, but this a Yacht-Master

I see you dropped a couple shells, but I shot faster

This Sheneneh, that's a stick, I'm a Glock master

Always see me up in LA, I'm a top rapper

Any foreign you can think of, nigga, I crashed it

You seen us up in 2016, we was not rappin'

We was wildin' in the streets, I done shot rappers

Won't ever see me with a gun, nigga, I'm cappin'

If it don't carry a drum, I cannot have it

Just gave a nigga the business, I ain't no stock owner

Brains all on Wall Street, I ain't no stock broker

Boy, you carryin' a Hi-Point, you is not focused

A hundiddy on his block left the Glock smokin'

All them pictures with them blowers, you do not own one

His mans was a free throw, he got a wack jumper

A hundiddy on his block left the Glock smokin'

All them pictures with them blowers, you do not own one

His mans was a free throw, he got a wack jumper

He pulled up actin' like a bitch, I had to slap on him, ugh

Ayy, you got a wack jumper

All that pillow talkin' on the 'Gram and you ain't slap nothin'

You know my niggas in the building, you see racks bustin'

And I'm smokin' dope before my shows like I'm David Ruffin

Baby gettin' thundered off this contact

You ain't talkin' blues, lil' baby, we can't contact

Bitch, I'm right through that road like a lineback

And I'm tryna hit your old lady, where your mom at?