I was thinkin' of a way I'm cookin' jazz up in the booth

I den ran up that bag she ain't know what to do

You say you know what to do uh I cook them bands with the flute

Wish my dad never touched on that juice I know my eyes red I ain't know what to do

Goin' through so much pain my mind gotta push through

I'm stackin' up my chips tryna stack to the roof

These bitches on my dick but I wanna call you

I look you in your eyes that's how I get the truth

I put you in a Benz or I throw you in a coupe

Was told to never be around snake Why you tweakin' over **** they gon' need

aid They duckin' bows we need racks what would

Pops say

I don't talk about opps just call up on them drops

We chop his mans then we start pourin' them in the pop

Opps gon' dance cause we carry on them big G-locks

Boog told me one day we gon' be up at the top

Just remember when I was down and sittin' on them rocks

I poured bands and slept days away mm yeah yeah yeah

I couldn't stand with demons in my way mm mm mm mm uh

I cook them bands with the flute Wish my dad never touched on that juice

I know my eyes red I ain't know what to do

Goin' through so much pain my mind gotta push through

I'm stackin' up my chips tryna stack to the roof

These bitches on my dick but I wanna call you

I look you in your eyes that's how I get the truth

I put you in the Benz or I throw you in the coupe

Mm I'm cookin' jazz up in the booth

I'm cookin' jazz up in the booth nah

I'm cookin' jazz up in the booth nah uh mm mm

Mm mm mm mm mm mm mm