(Thank you, June)

Yeah

Come on, yeah

Pop another pill, I'm alive, I'm awake

Mixin' up syrup, got it splashin' in the Wraith

Feelin' like a rocket, I might blast off today

I can't slow it down 'cause I'm stuck in a race, yeah

Pop them pills, yeah, pour up a glass, yeah

Pour up some drank, yeah, blow that gas, yeah

We don't sleep, naw, we don't crash, naw

Whole club movin', got 'em goin' fast (Yeah)

It ain't a bag if the shit don't never last, yeah

Thousand 'bows in a Glad bag, stuff the trash can

Whole kit on first aid, bitch, I'm the band man

Make the chopper do a handstand when we blam fam

It was bust Rollies, now it's Vacherons

I ain't cracked a seal in two weeks, they took the doctor down

Brick Squad with the fetty, got the flakka brown

Got a lot of thous in my pocket, make me hop around

**** always talking past tense, they some has-beens

Bag drop around 5 a.m., tell 'em back in

We can start cleaning up the spot, this the last man

Dumb **** had a hot head 'til he got fanned

'Member it was down the way, ninety days locked in

Burn the rock sands, got 'bows and we got tan

Remember I would hustle, all I wanted was to get a ten

Nowadays, when I blow a hundred bands, it feel like ten

I hold the paper to my heart because we feel like friends

Got a Cullinan truck and got a Lam', but I still like Benz

I've been woke for thirty hours, countin' a mil' in tens

A mastermind, always got a plan, bitch, I'm really him

Bought a mansion for my babies, business for my wife

Made my side bitch a boss, I be really livin' life, huh

Sittin' in the feds, quarter million off of white

I like the Richard when it's plain, but it's litter when it's ice, huh

This rap shit goin', but the trap still bunkin'

**** actin' in they music and be cappin' when they talkin'

Bailed my nephew out, he caught a hat in Minnetonka

Cook a chicken like hibachi, send a pack to Benihana

I been thuggin' with G.T. since we was shorties

The only **** ever gave me game was Chello, Crazy, Tim, and Corey

Was at the China Club, Mink, and Morey's

Got thirties and the forties, make the stains from the afternoon to morning (Ayy, yeah)

Brand new off the lot, leave the sticker, show the price

Boy, we traphouse legends, bro Hakeem with them pints

Serve the cut to the lames, pour the clean in a Sprite

I don't even like to call this shit rap, this my life

Really, we way bigger, you know **** just be talkin'

I got money tall as people damn near fillin' out my closet

Nowadays, I just thumb through it chillin' at the office

If you ever go against it, they'll be pickin' out your coffin

A hundred thousand all blues, man, my pockets C walkin'

Pop a half a genie, I can feel the bean talkin'

We ride bulletproof V's, in a Maybach crawlin'

Me and Ice stay ballin', that's my day-one partner

(Thank you, June)