( [?] )
Ayy

Fuck the judge, my niggas know I never told (I never tell)
Side bitch do my laundry
I could never fold (I don't do that shit)
Stripper bitch out in Miami always
keep the pole (Ayy, thick bitch, huh)
We doin' walk-downs, drive-by's
we don't care if we leave him cold (Ayy, ayy)

Just went with GUCCI
totin' sticks, no we can't trust a soul (Hell no)
I don't tote no Taurus
Five-seveN and we pull up four (Pull up)
All this street shit in my blood
I can't help it, it's just how I'm born (I can't help it)
This drug shit gettin' boring
I been up since yesterday morning (Goddamn)

I pull up with that shit, um (That shit, um)
they know I'm important (Yeah)
My junkie, he got big bands
he buyin' dope like every morning (Ayy, ayy, man)
I'm layin' with a Baby 'K
they got me so scarred (So scarred)
This choppa paint a nigga up and down
I turnt him to art (Hoo-rah)

I had to call that lil' bitch a Uber
'cause she got no car (No car)
Countin' racks in the kitchen man
it's crazy I was piss-poor (Cashin' out)
Now I fuck around and spend a band
in the shoe store (Oh, God)
Bathing Ape with Supreme and Dior
this from New York (New York)
Are you mad 'cause you down?
Fuck nigga, you should do more (Do more)
Put you up to ten-piece
and I put that shit on, no heart (No heart)
Lil' bitch say I'm funny
I am not no damn Kevin Hart (Hell no)
Lil' baby eat me up without a question
I'm a damn star (I'm a star)

Spent a rack on shoes, D-Dior
ain't no Ed Hardy (Yeah, yeah)
All these pussy niggas be hangin' out
it's a fed party (Uh-huh, fed party)
Why these niggas be talkin' on this Rick?
They still owe me money (Huh, yeah)
I'ma come down wit' a real accurate stick
ain't no point to running (Huh, yeah)
I'ma beat the block like Zaytoven
I do not say too much
'cause I still got some cases open (Shh)
Might poke her face, can't have no ties
I got that ace on me (Yeah)
I still remember when they tried
to move that weight on me (Uh)
But I came back and got them Timbs
then I stepped on 'em (Huh, yeah, I stepped on 'em)
5. 56, it look like Jesus done wept on 'em (5. 56, yeah)
Shooters encrypted, they like raccoons
the way they crept on 'em
I got me a check, no
I'm not Quan but I'm lil' rich homie, ya dig?
(Ayy, ayy, yeah, ayy)