Pocket Dial (feat. Diddyda don)

No rich shit

Nothin' light

Everything heavy

Uh

Ayy

I ain't gon' lie, you **** weird as shit (Lame)

If he beggin' for the drank, I done sold him hit

If I could turn that shit purple, I would've served him piss

**** puttin' they mans on a chain that cost a pint of Trish

Bitch, if it ain't that Wockhardt, then I don't wanna sip

Valet park the Bimmer by the door, no, you can't box me in

And my cars, they look just like the Western, got all kinda drip

Bitch, I know I'm fly as shit, I don't need no compliment (Oh yeah)

Ho, you know you assed out (Yeah)

Bitch, I know you mad now

We hit the club twenty deep and we rained out

The opps ain't throw no money back, I think they ran out (Yeah)

Goofy-ass **** tryna rap, but they too fanned out

Anybody book 'em for a show, then we gon' shut 'em down (Shut that bitch down)

My bitch strapped, but I might cheat with a bigger ass

I don't give a fuck if you blood, opps don't get no passes

We caught him lackin' at the Jeep, you know we got active

Everybody 'round me got a body, ain't nobody cappin'

I'm out here flyin' through the H, I know you peep the— (Skrrt)

You heard a **** upped a pole on Diddy, he can't reach again

I done walked a **** down, he pocket dialed his mama mama phone (Fap, fap, fap)

Shut the fuck up, granny, know what the fuck we on

Steppin' on your stupid-ass grandson, don't disrespect the code

Every opp done turned to a fan, worry 'bout it

**** cappin' for the 'Gram, lucky you ain't crash, pulled up and gave you mouth, stupid

Stupid-ass lil' fuckin' ****

You think I don't know money? Boy, that lil' kit ain't nothin'

We just poured eighteen hundred-some lines, that's 1-800

Them **** hoes, they worry 'bout us 'cause they know how we be bomin'

I can't tell an opp from a fan, don't approach me in public

Yeah, I'm clutchin' 'cause I peep somethin', who them **** over there?

Better learn how to move through the smoke, pop up, kill you anywhere