What's up with your homie, he actin' fake, I can't mess with him

It's just me and myself and God, askin' him to forgive me for my sins

I don't really need no friends, pull up in a Jeep, fold deep, oh not you again

Ain't nobody servin' my peace, just me and my bands

Arms get so tired cause I'm countin' up right with my hands

You flexin', you got a model till you find out that that ho' was trans

Flexin', like you got all these cars, but you ain't even got a lamb

And I ain't got one to, but at least I ain't cappin

Every time I'm on a track, I'm never cappin', I'm just rappin

Uh, and if I ever cap, it's just wordplay, but I don't never play

Back then, I was wearin' skinny Jeans, my dad thought I was gay, but that's okay

Uh, yeah, yeah, hold on, hold on, turn my headphones up a little bit, bro

You know what I'm sayin', we gotta spit on this track

Uh, yeah, yeah, okay, and you don't understand what I did as a man

Yeah, I'm from V.A., but I'ma make it to the land

And she doin' way too much, I cut her off just like a branch

If you talkin' to him, my Glock lights you up just like some sand

I got 23 rounds, I'm like LeBron from Cleveland

He doin' all that talkin', really, I don't even believe him

Postin' too much on him, on the gram, my whole gang, will seize him

Uh, I just lost my mind, I been goin' through the slump

Just got DM'd from a hoe, she wanna eat the gang for lunch

But I ain't got no gang, my gang, it's just me and me and me

And I ain't in the streets, but you know how this rappin' stuff gon' be

And I was whippin' up them birdies, poppin' all them thirties

I was on my back, every hoe, they always gonna curve me

But yeah, yeah, I'm back, bought a thirty, shoot you like I'm Curry

Yeah, yeah, yeah