I pop out, with some shit you ain't never heard of, make you wanna hate ya ****

I mix up, the exotic wit some red, Nah, bitch, I don't sip no liquor

I got, these racks stuffed in my bag, It's Tommy Hilfiger

I got, these, diamonds on me right now, Dancing like a stripper

I got my jeans on baggy

You know my bitch a baddie

She don't even rock no Gucci

She don't even rock no Fendi

She don't even rock no Louis

She don't even rock no Marni

But that purse chanelly and that jersey's stussy

Got bag on me, I'm tuck

Got big guns, if you try'n get buck

Got your bitch over here tryna fuck

Cause I count up, real money, Cause I count up, real hunds

She gon fuck wit the real, huh

She gon fuck wit the real, huh

She gon fuck wit the real, huh

Bitch can't hit my cup, uh

Bitch can't hit my blunt, uh

Bitch can't hit this fuck, uh

I don't give a fuck, uh

Hit to the face, you a chump, uh

Hit to the face, you a lame, uh

I got your sister in the front uh

I got your bitch with the James, uh

I pop out, with some shit you ain't never heard of make you wanna hate ya ****

Mix up, the exotic wit some red, Nah, bitch, I don't sip no liquor

I got, these racks stuffed in my bag, It's Tommy Hilfiger

I got, these, diamonds on me right now, Dancing like a stripper

I jump out the whip, uh

Hold out my wrist, uh

Can't tell me shit, bitch, I'm this shit, uh

I pull out the Benjis, uh

Talk to the strips

You talkin' that shit, uh-huh

I pull up wit sticks, uh, Pop out wit sigs, uh

Pop out wit glocks, uh

Bitch, I got guap, uh

Bitch, I got money

Smokin' out the OZ, I pour a dose of that codeine

I'm chillin wit my OGs

Yeah, I'm posted with my OGs

Ever since a lil jit, All I wanted was big money

And now I got money, uh

They act like they know me

Surpassin' all them ****, doin' it right now

And the ones before me

All them **** talk on me

All them **** corny

I'm grippin' up on my 40

30 on it like Curry

30 on it like Curry

I'm sippin' soda, it's dirty

I get it bag

Ain't no rush, no hurry