Yeah

I need percentage off all that rap shit

You gettin' bread off my name, need a rack, then

Me and my brothers stay constantly tapped in

Be where I be, you should stay with a strap, then

Nobody fuckin' with you, even back then

Two hunnid rounds out that motherfuckin' MAC-10

Move like the military, we got tactics

I know you, pussy, it's all in them graphics

Blood on my money, bitch

He gon' die like a motherfuckin' junkie, bitch

I don't play about nothin', I'm runnin' shit

Motherfucker, it is what it fuckin' is

People die every day, you just one of them

Everyday you don't kill me, I'm getting it

We gon' cut him right up out his fuckin' skin

I like guns, I don't care about no fuckin' gym

Couldn't pay me to patch it up

Tell that pussy to pack it up (Yeah)

He gon' die if he dap me up

Need a warhead, bitch, and a SWAT team with it, you think you gon' fuck me up (Yeah)

I've been bulletproof since I popped in it

Send a hunnid rounds if it's a cop in it

Keep a weapon on me, bitch, I shop with it

'Til that bitch dead, I'ma keep spinning

And I really never gave a fuck once

I like puttin' pressure on you dumb fucks

Y'all forgot who I am, I'm the fucking one

I keep punching it in 'til I get it done

I put coke in my body somebody dead

Dick hard 'bout a money spread

Yeah, bitch, fuck you, bap-bap-bap-bap-bap, yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah

Won't say my name when he's speakin' about me

'Cause I got more lanes than a freeway in Cali

Preppy girl shit, but I ain't from the valley

Now I'm flippin' bricks in your city like alleys

Brodie be yappin' and runnin' his mouth

Turn a boy to a corpse, now he lookin' like [allie?]

Man, it's a sign to keep countin' the blues

Make a homie act fast with the cash like I'm Sally

Most of these rappers resist the beef

'Cause they get deep when I dish like Chicago pizza

Homies tryna ask me for the method, but they gotta start on they own

I can't bottle feed ya told 'em Brokie that bitch with the model features

Talkin' tough and you might get the MØB to meet you

I do his shit, Super Mario

I have the pipe and they yellin' out, "Mama mia"

Bitch boys hate that I'm winning, we in the studio grinnin'

I'm getting money and digits, but that is honeys and women

They mad I won't even hit it, I got a man and your baddie

I'll be alone with your feelings

Got me, I got me, a bitch you love, but I do what I did and it's got some money to blow

And I'm getting money, they know it, they mad as fuck when they know this

'Cause they don't got any motion, I get a beat, then I'm floatin'

These rappers cappin' and copin' while I be open about everything that I do

I'm getting guap gotta crew, they talkin' shit on the kid? It's rainin' bullets on you

Yeah, I keep a big stick and turn a fuck boy to soup

They take him out of his kicks, they take him out of his suit

When I pull up with the MØB, be the squad, we go pop, get him gone

If he talkin', I lock and I mute

Shout out BLCKK, that's my dog

We be hawkin' your thot, put a cock in her jaw, now she fuck with me too

Got a gat and my guap in my wallet, I don't got a op

And it's back up the crib, I don't lose

We got the beat, knockin' and knockin' and knockin' and knockin'

The cops gettin' called on the crew, bitch

(ISSBROKIE)