What's The Word Lyrics

Damn, Donny made this

Heard he want to talk what's the word

In that fucking Trackhawk, park that bitch right on the curb

Bitch, you gon' catch the block, try to talk to me get curved

Eighty thousands on a clock, Rollies out let's go and splurge

Hella racks on a watch tell 'em watch, can't do it like us

Bitch I make hits everyday, just with a mic touch

You be touching lil' racks, that shit don't excite us

Bitch I copped the wires stepdad then copped the white buffs

Try to run up on me step back, bitch we don't step the same

Irrelevant we met like eight times still gotta guess your name

You sending threats but you a whole pussy, could never sweat a lame

I was in the SRT and bro he finna flex a range

Shout out to Alex that's my twin, yeah, for lifer

And we shooting with some pistols but got good aim like a sniper

That's yo bitch, thought you cuffed her but my bro just went and piped her

And I'm chilling with my twins, my tarantulas, my spiders

You a lover, not a fighter

Different colors, Rollie brighter

And I know that you down bad

My bro just fucked her then you wife her

Hit like a drummer, feel like Pyfer

Go to slumber, I'm a striker

In the summer burning tires

Ain't a Hummer, ain't a Chrysler

This a fucking SRT, why the fuck would I slow down

Man you just a bitch, I think that shit is yo pronoun

Bro equipped new chops like he just got a new loaded

All this shit right off the fucking top, ain't shit I wrote down

Told em tone down watch who the fuck you talking to

And people act like your brothers, in the end they end up crossing you

Put some diamonds in my teeth make sure I brush 'em and I floss em too

Kicking back at a fucking mansion, with a awesome view

Who I'm finna flex on today, shit, all of you

They ain't know that we was flexing, brought the Trackhawk in view

You a fucking joke, don't waste my time, I won't talk to you

Bitch I got Givenchy as my motherfucking walking shoes, yeah

Crazy drip finna walk into the fashion scene

No you can't get shit from me, so don't be asking me

Throw the left jab one time, and then he fast asleep

Knock him out quick like the fucking Ben Askren knee, yeah

Hell nah you ain't passing me

I kill shit way too casually

He run up that's a casualty

All this fucking cash on me

Heard yo fucking tape, I ain't like one song, it was ass to me

Only taking wins, it ain't never a L you handing me

I ain't asking please, bitch I'm taking everything, it's mine

Married to the game, think I need a wedding ring, it's time

Fuck what you said to me, everything you said it was a lie

Bitch you dead to me, I'm only going up, I'm finna fly

Ain't no checking me, bitch I feel like Nike I just do

Try to flex on me, left him in the past looking stupid

I'm the best to see, they can't rap like me bitch you can't do it

Flexing excessively, bitch I just walked out in a new fit

Heard he want to talk what's the word

In that fucking Trackhawk, park that bitch right on the curb

Bitch, you gon' catch the block, try to talk to me get curved

Eighty thousands on a clock, Rollies out let's go and splurge

Hella racks on a watch tell 'em watch, can't do it like us

Bitch I make hits everyday just with a mic touch

You be touching lil' racks, that shit don't excite us

Bitch I copped the wires stepdad then copped the white buffs