To fuck with me you lucky and you know it
Put your phone off, bitch, you tweakin', tryin' to record
Knew the cross was coming 'fore it happened, I saw it
They throwin' shots, ain't hit shit, trying my best to ignore it
She on socials tryna bash me, bitch tryna get off
He tryna get under my skin and diss me, he tryna get off
You see me but I ain't see you, why you ain't get off?
I catch my man it ain't no question, I'ma get off

Yellow bitch, yellow diamonds, ooh, I'm pissed off
The way she love me and she fuck me, ooh she gettin' off
He talking hard, approach him, watch how fast he get soft
Rapid fire, nothin' stop him, choppers lettin' off
If I catch you I'm gettin' off
I'm tryna knock your whole shit off
You and your mans too, I'll drop the bag on the whole crew
Ben be suffocating, the hundreds they be all blue
I'm on a whole 'nother level, the bitches, they all-new
Speaking of bitches, a bitch tryna get off on Instagram 'cause I fell back
Why you ain't make a post how you fucked the clique, bitch go tell that, hah
These rappers tryna sneak diss, tryna get off to get on, hah
Catch their ass in public, they gon' get right and get gone

To fuck with me you lucky and you know it
Put your phone off, bitch, you tweakin', tryin' to record
Knew the cross was coming 'fore it happened, I saw it
They throwin' shots, ain't hit shit, trying my best to ignore it
She on socials tryna bash me, bitch tryna get off
He tryna get under my skin and diss me, he tryna get off
You see me but I ain't see you, why you ain't get off?
I catch my man it ain't no question, I'ma get off

Before the rap money, young nigga was ballin' way before it
I don't do no talkin', I drop a bag on 'em then nigga you know it
I bought me a pint of that Hi-Tech, I crack it and pour it
I crunch up the X, end up in my mouth, you know that I throw it
She all in my section, she steady keep pressin', but no, she don't know it
When I'm up in Texas, I ride with that Wesson, just me and my boys
I swear it's controlling me, seventeen, got four sons
Tryna go cop me 'bout four foreigns
Studio on the bus, I'm touring
I swear I don't put no effort in these songs
Bet these niggas pissed off, mad at me and Bagg, aw
Grandma gone, I hold it down
No I won't flock, I keep it strong
These bitches be aching, I steady be raking
So when I'm recording, don't call my phone

To fuck with me you lucky and you know it
Put your phone off, bitch, you tweakin', tryin' to record
Knew the cross was coming 'fore it happened, I saw it
They throwin' shots, ain't hit shit, trying my best to ignore it
She on socials tryna bash me, bitch tryna get off
He tryna get under my skin and diss me, he tryna get off
You see me but I ain't see you, why you ain't get off?
I catch my man it ain't no question, I'ma get off