BMW shit

You not with the clique

You is not with the gang

On top

We tryna get this money though

And we ain't gonna let nothing get in the way

Ain't nobody

You feel me

Where, where, where when the mafia

I'm getting to the money, boy, they ain't stopping us

You just like a drain, you clogged up

I ain't messing with you, boy, you washed up

Check, check, check another hit, watch the windows get fogged up

Better get the GPS cause you lost us

Tell them what happened to the last one crossed us

B-B-B-W-M, we turn them into log dust

Don't play no games

I don't really fuck with you lames

Boy, boy, your shit too plain

I leave y'all sign to sign

Boy, you sound like a clone, never been the one to hate

Mother boy, you about to test your faith

Tell these bitches sorry for the wait

I'ma pass it out to Kevin Gates

Dirt all under my nails

Thumbin' through currency, mindset currently

Niggas don't worry me, white Panamera playing currency

Pussy niggas say they wanna murder me

Scene paper, steam haters

Beam laser, cream wafers

Spray one of mine for your fly

A lot of niggas living lies, I go hard, not a dream chaser

I had you, baby, king cake

You sliced all up on the king's table

Machines scrape you when your bricks about to land

Drop it when it's soft white, cook it in a tan

Spanning over pots while it's cooking in a pan

Looking for the grams, I can put them in your hand

Face card, face card, nigga got a face card

Chopping out a gray card, spitting with a eight

Or another mug with the drugs, now we got a race card

11-5 on the side, I ain't take a day off

11-5 on the side, I ain't take a day off

Breadwinner, guap, get a hustle for the pay off

Hit the trap, stay down, guess it kinda paid off

Griffin in the paint, I'mma bam on something

You thinking bout a slam, I was talking bout a Cutlass

Got it out the mud, everything push button

Nigga never gave nothing, now I'm coming through Staten

I don't fuck with you

I don't fuck with you

BMW, BMW

Breadwinner, when I pull up on her, got the head spinning

Yeah, yeah, yeah

BMW, Breadwinner

BMW, Breadwinner

BMW, Breadwinner

BMW, better check the murder rate

Fuck God, well, I'm bout to regulate

And you know, driving slow down the interstate

Let's go, bout to drop a murder tape

Yeah, yeah, so don't play with my shit

Little bitch, better not play with my clique

Better not play with my clique

I'm sick of all these motherfuckers talking, cause they ain't really talking about shit

Don't, don't play with your life

I get this money, I'm getting it right

If you run up, then you sacrificed

So don't ask me twice

I'm rolling the dice

I'm with the mafia, I'm with the gang

Breadwinner shit got you tucking your chain

Pull up on him and I bust his brain

I ain't leaving nothing but a motherfucking stain

Dang, dang

I don't fuck with you

BMW, BMW

Breadwinner, when I pull up on her, got the head spinning

Yeah, yeah, yeah

BMW, Breadwinner

BMW, Breadwinner

BMW, Breadwinner

BMW

BMW

BMW