Yeah, the more beef than the less bread Uh, quiet women give the best head Rappers doin' dope, went from trying to be like Hov Now they'd rather rock and roll and be like Led Zepp' Linsanity the way I shocked the game Momma hoppin' out the Bentley, sister hoppin' out the Range Stop the blame for my entourage, just stop droppin' names And you gon' stop getting dropped and mollywopped by the gang Do your thang, just keep mе out of it My money does gymnastics, man, I'm tryna make somе houses flip The sound of shit hittin' the fan turns me on 'Cause I just been addicted to chaos since early on I've surely gone off the ledge a couple times by now Pandemic hit, rappers sellin' sex right now I don't gangbang but trust me, bro, I'm set right now Real bosses don't need to chase a check right now It's for the best right now, you go broke so you can wake up You struggling, your labelhead is somewhere in Jamaica Eatin' jerk chicken, drinking Appleton rum Fix your mind state, that's when all the capital comes Fake titties feel like rocks, I like the natural ones I like a girl who gives me head without me asking for some Way to step up to the plate and take initiative Peace of mind, the only thing that's on my Christmas list Business is boomin', Reuben, I ain't stutter My career ain't reach its climax yet, I ain't Usher I'm not your brother 'cause we took a pic You must be higher than when Snoop handed me kush to hit Shush a bitch swiftly, shh, it's me I could teach you how to be a player, Chris Brickley Pick me ass bitches on the timeline making Alfredo Posting quotes they don't live by, thinking they Plato Y'all ain't foolin' anyone except the dumb ones Whole game is Wayne, Drake, Future, Young Thug sons I just skipped customs 'cause I took a jet I'ma eat forever, I took equity, you took a check Short term dough, not lookin' past your nose Lotta y'all don't listen to Nipsey and it shows You get around a bad bitch, you quick to make a post I can tell you didn't get pussy when you were broke Me, I keep it on the low 'cause the mystique is player I don't care about the hate shit, I was sixteen with haters Tryna diss me for paper, end up backfiring We gon' take your diamonds, make your eyes look like sapphires But I'm tryna chill on the violence Well connected, pressin' rappers at wireless Why you tryna fight me? You should try to fight your stylist and management I can't argue with people who think it's fly to buy the mannequin Low taste, don't talk to me Fuck a Uber, bitch, walk to me, show me that you want it Yeah, I brag about tickets, plaques and ownership, sue me Y'all brag about Moncler and Gucci on your body So how come I'm the only one who gets called cocky? As if rap isn't braggadocios At least what I brag about can get you bags Instead of handin' over cash to someone racist who just uses y'all for black promotion (Damn) Way to stick it to the man You really showed him by putting cash in his hand Walked out the store then you post him on the gram Now your fans are his fans, the cycle repeats Congrats stupid
Compositor: Russell James Vitale ECAD: Obra #38766361