Spent a bag on my wrist, yeah

Spent a bag on my bitch, yeah

Spent another bag on a whip, yeah

Bank account still look lit

Lookin' like I just hit a lick, yeah

Still ride around with a stick

Fakeness make me sick, yeah

We get lit, get lit

We get lit, get lit, yeah

We get lit, make hits, yeah

I don't ever tweak or twitch, yeah

Bad bitches give me lip

I got a shooter that keep my six, yeah

Shooter got aim, don't miss, yeah

I don't ever worry about shit, yeah

All I care about is getting rich

'Cause I got a bag to claim

And I got M's to make

I'm layin' low, workin' hard

Why you so mad at me?

Why you so mad at me?

Why you so mad at me?

I'm layin' low, workin' hard

Why you so mad at me?

Why you so?

You can stay mad at me, I ain't even mindin' you

Think I might take your girl without even tryin' to

She tellin' you it's nothing 'cause she can't confide in you

I'm givin' her everything that she couldn't find in you

And maybe it's better that way, she know it's better my way

I ain't got time to just chill, every time pussy get killed

Bringin' her pleasure, my pleasure, I go harder under pressure

Treat her like work and I stretch her, she only cum if I let her

Now she know what dealin' with the man feel like

Came around and showed her what she can feel like

And she love it when I let her count my racks

I told you, I ain't never going back

So I got a bag to claim

And I got M's to make

I'm layin' low, workin' hard

Why you so mad at me?

Why you so mad at me?

Why you so mad at me?

I'm layin' low, workin' hard

Why you so mad at me?

Why you so?

Why you so?

Why you so?

Why you so?