| Big bounce, on my cardio |
| Pumpin' gas, no narco |
| I be runnin' fast like Mario |
| Countin' up blue bands |
| Block hot, need some fuckin' fan |
| Yeah, yeah |
| Yeah, uh, yeah, trap, go get a bag, ayy |
| Yeah, foe’nem outside wavin' racks |
| Yeah, pull up on time, they droppin' flags |
| Yeah, if we one down, we bouncin' back |
| Yeah, she pull up to the trap to bounce it back |
| I pull up to the spot to count the cash |
| They come through the front, we out the back |
| This blunt I’m smokin' cost an ounce of crack |
| Yeah, I took three puffs, I damn near crashed |
| Yeah, she asked me did I love her, I damn near laughed |
| Yeah, it’s somethin' 'bout some money, I damn near trap |
| Yeah, the stove on me, I damn near fire |
| Yeah, call the plug, jugg, then I fly |
| (JT, you a fool for this one, nigga) |
| Yeah, call my bitch up, she down to fire |
| Told her I call 'em 155 |
| Up in this plane, bitch, I’m really high |
| Yeah, up to Ha Ha Davis, they’s finna die |
| Yeah, shawty gave me brain, it’s just DeVry |
| Yeah, yeah, wave the sticks around like we tryna kill a fly |
| Yeah, the school I attended was Real Nigga High |
| Yeah, you can let me down, I’m still gon' be high |
| (JT, you a fool for this one, nigga) |
| Yeah, put the spikes on the road, I’m still gon' get by |
| I would jump off a plane just to chill in the sky |
| Face-to-face with the clouds, lookin' at them in the eye |
| Yeah, boy you know your jewelry buy one, get one free |
| Yeah, I might look like one, but I’m no fuckin' dummy |
| Ayy, yeah, can’t make your hood dance like the girl off Honey |
| Yeah, they goddamn spark it, he thought it was funny |
| One down, finesse junkie |
| Yeah, uh |
| Now I got diamonds in my ear |
| Who that nigga is? I got no idea |
| Shh… if I kill (Glatt), they gon' know how I feel |
| One minute around me, you gon' know I’m real |
| Yeah, I had to run up that sack |
| They know it’s in my hat, yeah |
| Hopped out the back of the 'Bach |
| Uh, we’ll get you back |
| We’ll take that and your stacks |
| She love when I pull her tracks |
| Like son, I pull in the bank |
| No Facebook, I got status, yeah |
| Fresh like I got a stylist, backyard like an island |
| Fill the car by the gallon, baby built like a stallion |
| 5−7 sing like Bryson, wrist sprung, had to ice it |
| Fresh on the plane, landin' in Bali, ayy, yeah |
| Smooth came with an alley, run it up, this been a rally |
| Call the rodeo, we skelly, true, yeah |
| With the dope all in his skully |
| This Louis used to be a Pelle |
| This peanut butter uses jelly |
| Yeah, in a blue room like Belly |
| Man I got into it with my celly |
| All of this shit real deli |
| All the anti niggas need to end me |
| Ayy Remy, send 'em some panties |
| You a bitch, nasty, you shanty, yeah |
| Up the nina, nick nanny |
| Put a bullet up in your fanny |
| In a space suit like Sandy, yeah, glatt |
| Just take off like NASA |
| I’m a boss, feelin' like a pastor |
| I’m smokin' musk like I’m Elon, yeah |
| Light 'em up like neon |
| What the fuck these niggas be on? |
| This shit is be-beyond |
| This shit is beyond me |
| Jumpin' like a bee on me |
| Cops used to be on me, yeah |
| Now I got 'em out my way |
| Now I’m seein' this money |
| 'Member, used to make 500, yeah |
| Then I made a thousand |
| I’m seein' every dollar of my money |
| Everything you doin', I’ve done it, yeah |
| Used to go to school and do school |
| Big balls in that bitch’s stomach |
| Opps used to be roughin' |
| We already knew they wasn’t on nothin' |
| Gotta set it off, fuck runnin' |
| I used to walk around by myself |
| I’ll hit you myself, lil' ass boy, I’m takin' my belt |
| Oh you wanna be a gangsta, need my help, ayy, yeah |
| Wanna be built, need my step |
| That’s my youngin, throw up my set |
| Put them jeans ball in my head, yeah |
| Make the drummer ra-tat-tat |
| And throw temper tantrums like a brat |
| Bitch, I’m super up like a stat, yeah |
| Swing the K at 'em like a bat |
| Bitch, we rollin' like a frat |
| Bitch, we slidin' like a snow sled |
| Granny say boy, go 'head |
| Just don’t touch her forehead |
| Louis on my forehead |
| Goin' in for the finger roll |
| And-1, Jimmy Buckets |
| Bitch say she a Glo-head, yeah |
| She know I be on Rodeo |
| I catch the shit like Odell |
| Name rings like door bells, yeah |
| With my dawg, Taco Bells |
| Stood down like floor nails |
| I was in her DMs, for real |
| She like Pharrell, I’m like for real |
| You over there, baby, come here |
| The dope got me lookin' Chinese |
| With twins, I ain’t talkin' Siamese |
| Number one like Kyrie |
| Face somethin' like an ID, yeah |
| They love, don’t try me |
| Lil' nigga, come find me |
| My hand up, come find me, yeah |
| Send shells at your hiney |
| She got lifts like Kylie |
| She sing on me like Miley, yeah |
| And I come and sing like Isley |
| Baby think she a hypebeast |
| And she say she like me |
| And she say she a Pisces |
| Juiced up like an ICEE |