Look (17, 17)
I told him I’ll blow this out
D-Roc, D-Roc
Look
Panamera convertible, still ain’t lookin’ like I’m richer
Dior fit straight out the stores, still look like I’m out them trenches
Felon that still deal with copes, still gon’ send them fuckin’ hitters
Know I be on hella dope, still on drank to find my rhythm
Yeah, pussy niggas can’t still keep up with me
Yeah, he been killin’ shit, but still can’t fuck with me
Yeah, I got slimes that bang that fire, but still gon’ shoot for free
Twelve can’t control me, no, I’m on dope, dope, dope
I don’t let shit go, I say, “No, no, no”
I just bought a brand-new Glock, and it ain’t come up out the store
If an opp try to block me off, I shoot this bitch right on the road
I keep drugs inside my body and won’t lеt ’em take my soul
Uh, uh, dope ass, nigga look likе he selling dope, huh? (Ass)
Pistol totin’ ass nigga, keep that pole, huh (Keep that)
Check his swag, he act bad with these hoes, huh (With these, ah)
Killed that nigga ’bout that dissing, bet they know now
He wan’ just be like his cousin Meechy, real fuckin’ slime
He wan’ be just like that nigga Yeezy, he want Rolls, huh? (He want Rolls)
He just wan’ be real fuckin’ shiesty like his uncle, huh? (Like his unc’)
He just wan’ be real fuckin’ icey like he Santa son
He say he don’t wanna be nobody, he wanna be Lil Top (be me)
He say he don’t give a fuck about it, just give him the guap (nah, for real)
He say, “Y’all could make an album ’bout it, just don’t fuckin’ try”
Get the fuckin’ industry on your side, you still gon’ die
Panamera convertible, still ain’t lookin’ like I’m richer (Skrrt, skrrt)
Dior fit straight out the stores, still look like I’m out them trenches
Felon that still deal with copes, still gon’ send them fuckin’ hitters
Know I be on hella dope, still on drank to find my rhythm
Yeah, pussy niggas can’t still keep up with me
Yeah, he been killin’ shit, but still can’t fuck with me
Twelve can’t control me, no, I’m on dope, dope, dope
I’m probably fuckin’ on yo’ ho (fuckin’ on yo’)
No, they can’t control me, probably spit on that lil’ ho, yeah
Put me back in jail, and I was still in there on dope
Know that we don’t give no fuck, try splittin’ him on the road (yeah, yeah)
That my bro
Who be out the window? Mike Amiri, know I put it on
Gon’ get killed, if you don’t kill me, and I know I made it known
I’ma flex on ’em, told the bitch, “Don’t call my phone”
Sent the blitz on ’em, run ’em down like bam, bam, bam
Don’t give a fuck ’bout who up here, we could shoot it down (down)
Don’t give a fuck ’bout if you with it, you a part of the crowd, clown
You gon’ die while you up in here when that blicky make the sound
Probably catch me smokin’ loud, ridin’ ’round in a
Panamera convertible, still ain’t lookin’ like I’m richer
Dior fit straight out the stores, still look like I’m out them trenches
Felon that still deal with copes, still gon’ send them fuckin’ hitters
Know I be on hella dope, still on drank to find my rhythm
Yeah, pussy ass niggas can’t still keep up with me
Yeah, he been killin’ shit, but still can’t fuck with me
Yeah, I got slimes that bang that fire, but still gon’ shoot for free
Twelve can’t control me, no, I’m on dope, dope, dope
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