You must think I'm green

You gone fuck around and find out

Your addy a have me outside y'all house

FM 98, call me The Bushman

For dead presidents, I'm hopping out the trash can, green

Girl, you so cold I feel frost

You came with your girlfriends like Tracee Ellis Ross, y'all green

Aye, don't be acting color blind, gun sight, Trijicon

They abide dollar sign

Not very superstitious, we was writing on the walls

Tagging hoods put our names, X'ing out all y'all's

Used to hop in checker cab, smuggling the bag

A get your ass bussed, I'm on the D-Dot with mag, green

My phone battery on full

J's retro, them other kind Chicago Bull

Money thrill, camera, no filter, they excitable

I'ma marry myself, you hoes unwifeable, you green

When the plans go as planned

Or hit a good lick, the plays hand-to-hand

The transaction approve, phone ping, cool

You better do your homework, I'm already schooled, green

The veggies in, what you smoking on?

No caller ID? Stop calling this fucking phone

And they ain't get the play off, them boys gone fishing

I'm never going on no dummy mission, you must think I'm green

Green faces, blue strips, a make your favorite boo strip

Green beam, blue tips, we hop out and shoot shit

Left her ass on read, I told her my phone dead

White sheets, yellow tape in all black, man

Green faces, blue strips, a make your favorite boo strip

Green beam, blue tips, we hop out and shoot shit

Left her ass on read, I told her my phone dead

White sheets, yellow tape in all black, man