Fuck you high tech, I hate you

Yeah, yeah, yeah

Game, game, yeah

Ay, yeah, ay

Bitch, I'm talking to myself, I need my best advice

When I walk down, I keep my hands together, pray to Christ

She like, you be fucking bitches, I'm like, yeah, you right

I be working at Balmain's, kinda fit me tight

Cause these racks finna, bust out, bust out

Babe, I got a bust down

Hope you know you fucked with a real nigga, that's up now

Yeah, yeah, my baby rocking Ed Hardy

Everybody know my name when I come to the party

And we sipping on that dirt, no, we don't drink Bacardi

She tried fucking on my nigga, now she sorry

No, this ain't how that work

Babe, I got that RiRi bag, you know I make it twerk

Booted like a grimlin when I geeked up off of Yerevan

She like, I can't live without you, guess you dying first

My God, can I have a purse

Baby, pour the syrup, we geeked off this earth

And I need to go to church

Still, I really need that jag, but I put it in reverse

It's like, niggas make me mad

Put them in the dirt, put them in the ground

Yeah, we getting down

She say she know how I move, she heard I been around

Pull up on Sean lean , then we cruise to downtown

Glock 17, and that bitch got rounds

Glock 17, and this bitch got rounds

Glock 17, and this bitch got rounds

She see that I'm up, she wanna fuck now

Hell nah, baby, I was broke and you wasn't down