Directors Cut Lyrics

I get a bag and I'm out

Goin' up, check the account

We finna run in yo house

Made a band off of the couch

Got a bag check the amount

Sneakin' in, don't make a sound

Clean up the scene, no doubt

We put that boy in the ground

I got a check, blow it all on a fit

She like my Converse, like dummy, it's Rick

Stealin' my style go and find you a niche

Speak on the gang and end up in the ditch

I know he's scary, ain't takin' a pitch

Go ahead and go home, you ain't on the list

Shooter on fire, don't know how to miss

Ain't showin' up with no bag in the mix

Ha, Yeah, yeah, Christopher Nolan I pull up i'm shootin' the clip

Huh, Yeah, whoa, He feelin' agony when I pop him like a zit

Fye, Fye, We never miss, so we pull up, you know he got hit

He woulda had me if I didn't stay with a stick

Put on that coat, I'm drippin' the most

Ain't sippin' no coke, I'm sippin' mimosa

Now he finna float, we leavin' him toast

Now I'm finna fly off, I leave in a ghost

No I ain't doin' no shout outs

You look up to me, you should bow down

They waitin' on me like countdown

I ain't drop in a minute

I seen a opp through the peephole

Makin' a play call me Deebo

He want a feat need a C-note

I get a bag and I'm out

Goin' up, check the account

We finna run in yo house

Made a band off of the couch

Got a bag check the amount

Sneakin' in, don't make a sound

Clean up the scene, no doubt

We put that boy in the ground