A **** movin' weight, tryna get the cake

I'm in and out of state (At least you could wish me luck)

Too many **** fake, it's hard to tell a snake (Ayo, Mark A)

One more flip and I'm straight (At least you could wish me luck)

I don't go hand to hand, it go gram after gram (Tal'n bout Mr., whew)

Yeah, holla at me man (At least you could wish me luck)

Too many **** fake, it's hard to tell a snake

One more flip and I'm straight (At least you could wish me—)

Out road running, tell my bitch she better wish me luck

Either getting locked or touching back down giffy'd up

2022 the new me, kit fifty plus

Touch one of mines, we might blow the whole city up

Ninety-day grind, might make a hunnid by the sixth week

Me and bro counting, Southwest T and Big Meech

201s burnt the reader down, every chip heat

I-I just spent four figures on a pair of ripped jeans

.223's leave him twitching like a gamerhead

Eight hunnid dollar double cup, killed the pain with meds

Pockets full of blues, bottom of my feet painted red

High as hell eating breakfast, steak came with eggs

You gon' think dog your mans 'til he face the feds

Tell him, "Sit down" before I have Akhi shave his dreads

Brodie face a red, finna go straight to bed

Up some Presi's out my pocket, you gon' make me wake the dead

If the vibes off, I can't shake his hand

Why you talking money? Never woke up and made a band

Life a gamble, sometimes, you gotta take a chance

European dressed, looking like I came straight from France

Forty some' thousand in the joggy, had to change my stance

What the fuck going on? You playing BAPE off Vans?

Y'all be weird, that ain't in me, I don't hate no man

Walking down an opp, his ass praying that the Draco ja—

Shit, left his top oozing like a Faygo can

Eat Chipotle with some cheese on me, I'm the queso man

Fell asleep off a four of Wocky, I don't take no Xans

Wake up, plans come to me, I don't make no plans

I'll snatch you up at the Coney, some' like Lamar

Grinding since forever, shit, now I'm shining like a star

Fifteen miles in your tank, you not sliding far

This the twelfth street we rode down tryna find his car

Finna do the dash, standing up in the Trackhawk

From a city if you wear some glasses, they get snatched off

If them bitches ain't real, get your face blast' off

Scam vet', was scamming when y'all couldn't get the bag off (Whew, this **** got him a lil' pow pow)