Scripted Lyrics

We got the xannies and perky's prescription

Pop me a tab melt the sun bitch, I'm trippin

Slide to your block with the glocks like we hitmen

I'm in the cut drink blood

Bitch we sipping

Catch a opp lacking

We got that boy stripping

They tried double back all they shots, fucking missing

Don't come too close, pussy boy, keep your distance

Come with a blickies, equip with equipment

Toast with the roast my mac cooking your chicken

Whipping and whipping, my wrist in the kitchen

Sniffing and sniffing, the fiends got me dripping

Hand on the pole, let it blow, it's been itching

Don't hit my phone if it ain't about digits

Keep my shit close, I don't play about my business

Crossing me twice take your life, I'm not Christian

Life on the line, on the west with my smithin

Pop me a pie the whole night I feel lifted

Disaster, a blessing, they told me I'm gifted

Look in my eyes, tell me why my soul glisten

Get to the loot, making money, my mission

I've been the GOAT, it's been known if you listen

I've been the GOAT, it's been known if you listen

Loose top, brigade, no fumble

Moose tracks, move fast, blunt

Who got big game rotation

Prove it up, get spun out

Loose it up, let some out

Full pad, move fast, funds

Who got in game dictation

Prove enough, get locked up

Chew some up, get fucked up

Taste nasty, but hit fat

Blew some bands, yeah

Freedom, know me for real

We got We Got We got the xannies and perky's prescription

Pop me a tab melt the sun bitch, I'm trippin

Slide to your block with the glocks like we hitmen

I'm in the cut drink blood

Bitch we sipping

Catch a opp lacking

We got that boy stripping

They tried double back all they shots, fucking missing

Don't come too close, pussy boy, keep your distance

Come with a blickies, equip with equipment

Toast with the roast my mac cooking your chicken

Whipping and whipping, my wrist in the kitchen

Sniffing and sniffing, the fiends got me dripping

Hand on the pole, let it blow its been itching

Don't hit my phone if it ain't about digits

Keep my shit close, I don't play about my business

Crossing me twice take your life, I'm not Christian

Life on the line, on the west with my smithin

POP