Letras
Yeah, gotta listen how I'm rapping, run down, boy, we mother fuckin' trappin
Shoutout to my bro, he gettin' them packs in
I go to the bank, I'm turnin' my racks in
If you want the drank, you know that we taxin
Beem out the air and you can't even land
I'm goin' on the killstreak, get me a fan
Fuck, shoot his ass wit the tac den
Fuck, pussy ass, nigga, lackin
Yeah, put him in the wood, pack him
He a solo cause his duo, yeah, we fapped him
Fuck, let me motherfuckin' chill
Land' tilted, I'm tryna get a kill
It's risky as hell, bein' so real golden scar in my hand, let's go on a drill
Yeah, Kobe bean' on the opp, don't need a pill
If we get in the rec dunk on shit like Shaquille O'Neal tryna get rich at a house worth a mil
Don't want a Rolex, show up richard mil
I popped him king Von demon-type drill
I popped him nigga ass, couldn't even build
Come score, I'm ballin' on shit at will
She a whore, baby u all in my grill
Run up right now, boy, it ain't no motherfuckin' extended the drill
Snipe him' can't, stand still
I got hoes, I ain't staying still
Drop y'all mans, I'm saying still
You built brick and I build with steel
Nigga, wish you would, I bet he get he killed
Hunting rifle on me so I walk with, a tilt
Drop a hundred out the minigun, callin' me Wilt
Battle pass, nigga, couldn't even place
Top ten up in this bitch, he couldn't even last
Put that rifle on a nigga, nigga, fuck your little ass
In the matrix in this bitch, nigga, dodgin' hella fast
Tryna score up in this bitch, brr, brr, that's your ass
Body bag, run down with the pump
Then switchin' to the SMG mag
Hit this bitch, she keep on blowin' up my phone, I'm not her dad
Hit this bitch, ain't cost me nothin' but some shoes and Dior bag