Credits
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Johnathan R Burt
Songwriter
Lyrics
(Helluva made this beat, baby)
Ayy
Pop two P's, hit two bitches at the same time
I got all foreign bitches on my main line (Yeah)
Feds all in my business, talkin' 'bout gang ties
Kobe in the clutch, better duck, bitch, game time
Wish I would let a **** trick me out my spot (Never)
Wish I would jump off a bridge for some fuckin' twat
**** shot me four times, I left the hospital like Pac
Just because I fucked your ho, ****, that don't make me your opp
I can't even chill in my own hood, man, that bitch be hot
Got a **** bitch with me right now, man, I need to stop
Did my lil' dance on that— now I feel like Pops
You would swear my name was Tez the way I keep a Glock
A couple **** switched up on me, I might just kill 'em
Coupe like a Wayne album, it ain't got no ceilings (Fuck)
My fans tellin' me to drop, but really, I've been chillin'
Really, I've been boolin', catch him lackin', shoot him
I heard them boys be tryna slide, but they ain't got no aim
Wastin' all them fuckin' bullets, we gon' bust your brain
Made me laugh when I seen my old bitch with a lame
How you tryna earn some stripes off a **** with no name?
Give a fuck about them hoes, ****, let's get this pape'
Talkin' 'bout **** snitchin', but you told, you 1090 Jake
Walk a **** down like paid in full, open up that safe
**** caught a warrant from some tickets, you ain't catch no case
Got some bullshit on my mind and I just need to vent
If that headshot a ten, I might pay the rent
You probably think I'm lyin' if I tell you what I spent
Can't talk about sendin' no shooters, they already sent
I got some bitches in the O, I'm on my way to Kent
Just had a date where my kids eatin' steak and shrimp
All my bitches bring me bags, somethin' like a pimp
Haha
Everybody gettin' money, what's the problem, then?
If we don't know where **** at, we gon' follow 'em
She was talkin' all that classy shit, now she swallowin'
Get a couple likes on IG, now she modelin'
Everybody gettin' money, what's the problem, then?
If we don't know where **** at, we gon' follow 'em
She was talkin' all that classy shit, now she swallowin'
Get a couple likes on IG, now she modelin'
(Damjonboi)
Ayy
Boss up on my old hoes
Old confused-ass **** stole my old flow
Main bitch a yellowside bitch in rose gold (Okay)
Fuck what you had, ****, where the pros go?
Ayy
****, go the other way, take a detour (Uh-huh)
On the yacht spillin' Rose on my Diors
****, I done made a couple dollars, I'm just tryna see more
Monclers in the winter if I'm with my bitch in B'more
White 1's, Golden State jersey when I'm in the Bay
Throwback Deion Sanders when I'm in the A (Okay)
**** ain't havin' no motion, you just in the way
Talkin' 'bout she want a bag, send her to the K
****, I'll cook this shit in front of you like I'm Dr. Dre
I don't even wanna fuck this bitch, she gon' wanna stay
And I made twenty right in front of him, caught another play
Everybody dissin' everybody, you can catch a stray
Get your motherfuckin' pape', shit, that's all I'm sayin'
You done got your ho fucked, ****, all that playin'
Ain't no funny camera tricks, ****, my shit dance
I heard that **** had a pole and he still ran
Written by: Johnathan R Burt

