... Lyrics

Damn, Donny made this

Uh, yeah

Uh, uh

Yeah, uh, yeah

Bitch hit my phone on, yeah, uh

Bitch said some crazy shit, I sent the three dots

Most y'all whole crew be bitches, but we not

And when I get lit I'ma make my whole team hot

Caught yo ass down bad in 4K, I got the screenshots

You ain't really seeing bands, lil' bitch we see lots

Y'all got no motion without beef, y'all really need opps

Could that be me? Nah

All I need's the fucking homies

Bro be having Wock now, used to pour the Tussin slowly

Turnt before lockdown, popping out with flooded Rollies

Bitches talk a lot now, like they really fucking know me

Yeah, fuck

You a kid, you a lame

You think you fucking special

That glock gon' hit you the same

Bro asked why I said fuck him, he was talking shit to my gang

Bro wanted a feature off percents, you can't get splits off my name

Guarantee you I'ma body you on yo song

Honestly I snap on any beat, can't do no wrong

Money used to be weak as fuck, now it's so strong

Ask me what makes you a bitch, shit, I could go on

Shit I could go on for days but I ain't wasting time

You a bitch, don't try to be something else, yeah, just stay in line

Chop hit his shirt, made it red like he was tasting wine

How the fuck you think you finna blow up, you hate the grind

Why the fuck you cop the Trackhawk, you hate to slide

Why the fuck you cop designer, you stay inside

I know that I'm finna go up, I made my mind

You can't make yo own wave so you chasing mine

Yeah, yeah, chill out get off my dick

You can't drip like me, you can't afford what it cost to drip

Ice on my Rollie, flood it out, go and frost my wrist

Why the fuck you talking like you hard, man you soft as shit

Yeah you really soft as Charmin, that's crazy

We be working everyday, you get nowhere 'cause you lazy

If you really need a feature you gon' have to fucking pay me

If I tell you how I really feel about you, you gon' hate me

Hold on, seventeen bands on my fit bitch

Seven seas don't got drip like this bitch

Seven feet, stack my money, finna get rich

Seven keys, which car, which whip bitch

Send his ass up to god, yeah, where heaven be

He was talking shit, he irrelevant so I let it be

Think you better than me, bitch you must be high off ketamine

Popping out with some crazy drip, some shit you never seen

At the top it's only me, nobody next to me

Bet you I'ma shit on you if you think you ahead of me

Yeah, I don't want no handouts, all that little shit is dead to me

I don't even got yo number saved, why you texting me

Fashion week out in Paris, finna take a jet to see

They saying you be snapping, y'all ain't even seen the best of me

Said you eating good, I think yo ass eating Pedigree

Really you ain't shit, yeah, really you a pest to me

Yeah, uh, yeah

Bitch hit my phone on, yeah, uh

Bitch said some crazy shit, I sent the three dots

Most y'all whole crew be bitches, but we not

And when I get lit I'ma make my whole team hot

Caught yo ass down bad in 4K, I got the screenshots

You ain't really seeing bands, lil' bitch we see lots

Y'all got no motion without beef, y'all really need opps

Could that be me? Nah

All I need's the fucking homies

Bro be having Wock now, used to pour the Tussin slowly

Turnt before lockdown, popping out with flooded Rollies

Bitches talk a lot now, like they really fucking know me