Lito, what up, my ****?

Lito Wayne, bitch

Yeah, alright, what up, Wayne?

Yeah, boy, hmm

Mm, yeah, alright, yeah, yeah

I'm in a million dollar house off rap, mean I'm tryna rap, alright

1.2 just to be exact

Fuck around and blanked out, I just took a Xact

Bitch, when the feds grab me, I ain't look back

In the Gucci store, spent six racks, didn't get a book bag

Right now, I'm high off a lot of drank, I just look mad

That **** ain't got dog shit, that's why he look sad

Fuck around and put an apron on in my cook bag

Go for the interception with the drank, I know Snook mad

Some telling me to do a hook bad

But I'm still in my punch bag, you know, hook, jab

Sprite, damn, they're gone, on my cup, man

Left in the Maybach even though I had a bus pass

He went to jail and got gated, won't get enough ass

Heard a **** took your cell phone, you know that look bad

Don't give a fuck how much this jacket cost, I ain't putting it back

Mike say today I missed a shot and he put it back

Trish with the Quake getting taste like glass red

That night them **** throw my jewelry, I was half dead

I popped three 30s, drunk and ate, and took a half Xan

Bro, I'm still paranoid, that's why I bag in

Where the fuck you get that gun from? Is that a MAC-10?

I seen a **** throw his life away 'cause he ain't have hands

Ask me, 'Am I getting money?' Look at Cass' pants

My son got on some Amiris with a Roll in 'em

Panty on, he seven years old, ****

I don't buy diamonds no more, I'm a gold digger

Ten mil' chunky, but the .45 hold bigger

Bitch pussy hole loose, we stuck a pole in her

If y'all listen to my tape, I'll put my soul in it

Tomorrow I'm wearing Flax, I might pop out like a old ****

Broke precise with that Glock, he a dome hitter

Oh, you tryna talk shit? I'm the wrong ****

Aye, Mike, come here real quick, bring your phone with you

This white boy tryna give us ten and send a song to him

I just know your phone slap, you got my old number

I think like an old jeep, but my soul younger

A thousand horses in this bitch, can't keep control of it

That house and the, aye, aye, Ree, how much you owe? Nothing

Let's talk about Flint, got twenty-four of 'em

Stop worrying 'bout what I do and go own somethin'

Twenty-nine hundred for the chrome joggy

Promoters on some bullshit, let's throw our own party

Crazy, I got dog shit and don't own Cartis

Ain't got enough to buy the Hellcat, but I don't wanna charge it

My brother tryna get some drink, I don't wanna charge him

Oh, bro, you on the verse? Give me four thousand

What V? Say we already big, but finna go larger

This bracelet right here is twenty-four thousand

****, fuck your OG, I got my own mama

Three prime to five karat, make it look harder

I'm finna put it on every chain, make 'em look harder

Smash the gas in the TRX, I got a foot problem

Now that **** feet stink, he need some foot powder

We ain't got no slugs in here, all buckshotters

I know a **** with some money, never took shots

How the fuck I get indicted? I don't even know how to cook powder

What the fuck?