CORSA

Uh Yeah Won't jump clique to clique, Hit-Boy, but I ain't like you kids They know what time it is Peel off, Lambo tires skid Doin' the most Imagine you and me close I'm too ahead All of that "homie shit" dead Niggas can't call me they friend Or call me they mans Or call me they woe These 40 belows, my heart is still colder Got it in Corsa, revvin' the motor I'm gettin' change, they wanna see me slip through the cracks Shorty is into me, she let me crash Two-person party, we havin' a bash What you think all this Julio for? She told me, "Go lock up the studio doors" She actin' up like it's the movie awards, for real, for real, for real You gotta love a discreet freak, that's for real, for real, for real Nigga, it's twenty on my receipts, that's for real, for real, for real I just left out H Lorenzo in Maxfield Tool on me, we still can't build I be solo on the real Smokin' personals of kill I kept it 1k, that's how I'ma stay She wearin' Saint but she not a saint All ten down, that's how I was raised for all of my days Won't jump clique to clique, Hit-Boy, but I ain't like you kids They know what time it is Peel off, Lambo tires skid Doin' the most Imagine you and me close I'm too ahead All of that "homie shit" dead Niggas can't call me they friend Or call me they mans Or call me they woe These 40 belows, my heart is still colder Got it in Corsa, revvin' the motor I'm gettin' change, they wanna see me slip through the cracks Shorty is into me, she let me crash Two-person party, we havin' a bash Don't jump, clique to clique, most these guys is counterfeit I'm in the hood without a stick You never know, might see some shit She love me 'cause I don't cum quick I'm local but still out the mix This stripper bitch live by the Ritz Talkin' slick gon' get you hit I'm hood rich but I never trick She fine, but still I won't commit Spoiled hoes throwin' fits Want a nigga that pay that rent I ain't like these rappers, all these trappers hustlin' backwards I talk facts bruh, all you after is the fame and the pussy That shit wack to us Uh, I put that on my cousin I been thuggin', two tires cost like 16 hunnit My nigga died, I'm drivin' home, I'm sick to my stomach But self-pity won't cut it I tell 'em, "Up the budget" Now niggas wanna own their masters, y'all all actors I'm a factor, roll like tractors Playin' Ginuwine... the Bachelor If I want it, I could have her And my Amex say I'm platinum I'm at the car wash wit' a bad one Take a pic wit' me, then tag 'em Niggas can't call me they friend Or call me they mans Or call me they whoadies 40 below, my heart is still cold I got it in sport, I'm revving the motor I'm getting change, they want me to slip through the cracks Baby is into me, she let me crash Two-person party, we havin' a bash We don't jump clique to clique, Hit-Boy but I ain't like you kids They know what it is, peel off Lambo tires skid Doin' the most Imagine you and me close I'm too ahead (I'm too ahead) All of that "homie shit" dead (yeah)