Ayy, ayy, ayy
Ayy, ayy, ayy
(Hit-Boy)
Ayy, this that Clipse sample, ayy (
G. Ry got me
)
Fuck that talkin’, let the clip slam ’em
Yellow bands around them hundreds, you know how much that is (Tens)
Too much to give me cash, they had to wire me the backend (Send it)
Niggas in here lookin’ tough, you know that I got mag in (What?)
Ask me am I only rappin’, you know I got that bag in (You see it)
Bandman like Lonnie (Lonnie), want my head? Come find me (Come get it)
Lil’ bro in that bitch chillin’, he ain’t tryna come home cocky (He chillin’)
He comin’ home to a dollar (Dollar), and a mansion and a chopper (What else?)
In the desert on a dirt bike (Skrrt), VLONE shirt and the Pradas (Fresh)
Big nigga fresher than you, fuck you and your stylist (Woah)
Paid ninety for my grill, then lost it, that’s why I ain’t smilin’ (Damn)
You got Sean, you got Hit, you got Grizz
Kash Doll’ll paint you red, throw you in the water, they gon’ think you a lobster, nigga
Gang (Uh)
I just dropped a kit, you dropped out of school
These hoes wanna be famous ’til they make the news
All my bitches winnin’, how it feel to lose?
Nigga tryna get the box like he finna move
Bitch, I’m at my pinnacle, I used to shop at Pinnacle
Your nigga still drink Pinnacle, bitch, your taste is pitiful
I talk cash shit, you ain’t cash shit
Call up Baby Choppa, Cash Kidd, and spend my cash, kid
You stay back like adlibs, I buy, I don’t ask shit
I pop shit and pop tags, bitch, this new era be cappin’, uh
Me, Sean, Tee off that Pusha T, ain’t no pushin’ me
Bro might put you on a tee, dot my I’s and cross my T’s
Bro might put you six feet or bro gon’ put you on your feet
But bro can’t put you onto me
A-plus pussy worth a B, nigga, uh
You niggas ain’t worth no B, fuck outta here
I keep dyin’ in my dreams, but life’s great when I stay woke
Bet you love dreamin’, that’s the only time you ain’t broke
Try me, 40 make you back up off me like DeJ Loaf and Big Sean
Get triggered down, Jhené Aiko
Gotta keep Glock in the fanny
Nigga, you not finna ham me, huh
Put a body on a ratchet, I feel like Dr. Miami
Niggas tryna ride my wave like they stoppin’ a taxi
On a six in a Lam’, but I’m not that bitch Mary (Helluva made this beat, baby, Four-One)
They counted me out, I came back with a vengeance
In back-to-back Benzes, back-to-back winnin’
Rap failed, oh well, give me back my scale
And a burn-out cell, I’ll grow clientele (Yup)
Four-One P, I don’t sell dreams, I wholesale P’s (Uh)
Want halves, nigga, don’t call me, don’t insult me (Boy)
Wrist frosty, ’bout eighty what this shit cost me
Don’t worry, I’ll make it back before you sip coffee
I run with hustlers and bosses, bosses and hustlers (Yeah)
Had to find my hustle, I was lost in the gutter
Got out that jam, now it’s foreigns with the seats peanut butter
Bitch, it’s BYLUG for life, never crossin’ my brothers
(Let’s go)
(Helluva made this beat, baby)
I fuck with 6 Mile, not too much the 7, they freed the 4s
That’s your bitch, huh? Well, get her together, she fuckin’ bro
You know them road trips still bring a dub in, sub in
Even if the party was seven, the strip club ten
I’m all in this bitch on the tether, I’m throwin’ dubs still
I put her in the Bentley mansion rent-free
Told ’em keep the G-Wagon plain, don’t even tint these
Can’t be fuckin’ with a lame, dog, you got her head big
Three hundred a line for the Wock’, I’m sippin’ red still
I know how the feds feel, I make it hard to catch me
Cuz sellin’ corn still, codeword for reggies
I ain’t signed a deal yet, fuck it, I don’t need ’em
Everybody with me eatin’, free my niggas ’til I see ’em
He ain’t dead, we ain’t even, Jet back, ante up, bitch
Free them boys
(Shit hard)
(Where you at, Bo?)
We gon’ make it off the ave, get a half, then I shake it
Somethin’ like a bad habit, we ain’t have it, we gon’ take it
Came up off a fifty slab, now my bag big as yappers
Workers beggin’ me for time off, askin’ me for raises
Took me six hours to count it, bubble wrap it up, and tape it
All my bitches want allowance, plug askin’ me for favors
I been out of town so long, had to get reacquainted (Ayy)
With the neighbors on the block, all this cash we been rakin’
Way before the rap when I was writin’ verses
We was beatin’ up the Ike like I was Tina Turner
We was loadin’ up the Glock and fillin’ up the hearses
Now I’m preachin’ like it’s Sunday, tryna teach the sermon
Tryna teach ’em how to get it, fill up they mamas’ purses
So they ain’t standin’ front the judge, listen to the verdicts
‘Cause we was standin’ on the block, thuggin’ with the serpents (Yeah)
Get caught with Kurtis Blow on me and they gon’ close the curtains
Million-dollar cars you can’t merge in, Based God how I got my curse lift
She gon’ play her part so well, you thought that she rehearsed it
Don life worship
Holy temple, synagogue, tabernacle, churches
Yeah (Hit-Boy)
Look
I can’t even chill, I get active
Overdoin’ everythin’ my best and worst habit
Shit be impossible ’til it happens
I never thought I’d see Kobe go before Magic
That taught me first, no seconds to waste
Only waist I like is her legs wrapped around my face
Fuck you think she doin’ over here? Watchin’ Netflix?
Beard game, might just let it grow down to my necklace, uh
I don’t hope for wins, I expect it, uh
Adrenaline in me like it got injected
My girl say I got communication issues, no, I don’t
I just don’t like sharin’ all my problems more than the results
I bring the plan back to my team, tell ’em go wild
Godbody my physique and my profile
I did every single goal that I wrote down
Checked it off, it’s old now
And that shit give me chills, fuck I gotta take yours?
I’m the originator, make it, then I make more
Written in stone, you can’t forge
You ain’t on my level even if we in the same buildin’ on the same floor
Old boy black out
Dough boy cash out, payroll, contract maxed out
Cash kid, cash cow
Tapped in, I can’t tap out
Bitch, keep thinkin’ I’m sleepin’ in
Tony on the monitor, I see your ass creepin’ in
Lil’ bitch, if it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t exist, you get the gist?
Fuck a cease and desist, they shootin’ up seats and exits
Throwin’ plays to my bros, I’m leadin’ the league in assists
Hopscotch, blacktop, I ain’t been skippin’ a step since
Real estate, Zillow every day, bitch, I might just change my profession
Dodged so many rainy days, it changed my complexion
Hang up on your ass and say I lost the connection
I turned out to be the man that I manifested
(Let’s go then)
Hmm, fuck the bullshit
I ain’t here to make no friends, can’t get bool with me
Since an adolescent, I was ignorant, up in school trippin’
Pistol at my desk, I was sittin’ up in school with it
Put your bitch hand in my corner pocket, play pool with it
She gon’ eat the dick, both balls licked, and do it to me
Ain’t go to college, I ain’t want no pussy nigga roomin’ with me
Still could’ve went to college, Sada ain’t no fool, nigga
Every clip we got extended, yellow Perkies look like minions
Put Church’s Chicken on your niggas, scrape them boys for half a biscuit
Know I like the burner, but I’ll beat your ass, this shit personal, huh
Hit a nigga in his shit with this fifty or thirty, duh
(Let’s go, Royce)
Name a nigga out of the D as solid as me
I unlocked a lot of dollars, nigga, knowledge is key
I did it all without a college degree
I went from hottest signed artists, don dada, to G
Street lord, rock bottom, Godfather, and P
D-Boy, Rottweiler, Sean, Sada, and Tee
Standin’ on the corner three days
Phone is on Motorola prepaid
Diadora or gold Ellesses
These are ordered from the older East Bays
She either rollin’ with the owners or the lessees
A kind man knows a blind man holds grudges
A wise man knows a wise man knows nothin’
I thought I told you motherfuckers I ain’t need a budget
I ride with them guys that society begrudges
We been thuggin’ worldwide, got arenas buzzin’
We survived gettin’ fronted by Ilena cousin
Before you could sell that Cole and Adele
Or go NFL, be Kobe or Kells
The plight of the rich is to throw you in jail
The fight has been fixed since the openin’ bell
And you know who postin’ your bail? Who promotin’ your L?
Who be hopin’ you fail? Nigga, Oprah and Gayle
Ignore the hate, show the world that we love the opps
Call Lyor great while they make rape Russell docs
Nah
(Okay, yeah)
(Hit-Boy)
Yeah
(G. Ry got me)
Bitch, you have never said a clever line ever
You murdering in the booth is the furthest thing from the truth
Rest assured, I’ma treat this roof like I’m peelin’ off (What?)
The plastic on a pill bottle, I’m tearin’ the ceilin’ off (Woo), yeah
Ripping rappers like they were wrapped in Saran, bitch
And I’m strapped up with ammunition
And single-handedly takin’ over the game like I had an actual hand missing
But I only need one to clap
Animal ambition
The only butt-fuckin’ way that you’re strapped is for cash
Wish you could slap in the damn clip in that motherfuckin’ imaginary little handgun you’re brandishin’
Bitch, if you pull up with the stick
It’s a car with a manual transmission
The chances are low to none that I will overcome my bipolar one
Voodoo dolls, I’m just pokin’ fun, pins to me are like loaded guns
When I’m holdin’ one, if I’m just fiddlin’ with it
This motherfucker discharges like me checkin’ myself out of the fucking mental hospital (Brrt)
And I get off like an acquittal, I spit it, you critique it
It feels like I’m bein’ belittled by midgets
It’s like holding a nuke or a damn bazooka
And walkin’ right up in the middle of a little kids’ fuckin’ pillow fight with it (Yeah)
You want smoke? I’m like hookah
Man, I remember back when I used to get jumped for my fucking Pumas
Run home and go fuck my room up (Yeah)
These streets will try to vacuum you up
That’s why the avenue where I grew up was 8 Mile and Hoover (What?)
‘Cause it sucked like a Roomba (Yeah)
But even if I would’ve went the indie route (What?)
I don’t have any doubt
I would still get blown like it’s windy out
Shoot ’til the clip is emptied out
This is the beginning of the ending, but I’ll put another clip in and spit these rounds
If I dig deep down when I’m in my bag like Fendi
Who am I offending now? (What?)
Got so many fucking detractors, feels like I’m gettin’ plowed (Yeah)
Had to put my money on a diet, I got too many pounds
You would think I’m turnin’ pages the way that I’m flippin’ paper
Middle fingers, them bitches get to wavin’ like friendly neighbors (Woo)
I’m talkin’ loot like I’m rioting
Dick is so big, I can’t fit the entire thing through a tire swing
I don’t think it’d be logic for me to say that I’m retirin’
But I should say bye-bye, earthlings
‘Cause I’m back on Uranus fuckin’ up this “Grindin'” beat, yeah
I took the pain and learned how to put that shit into a song
You listen for flaws and strip it and try to pick it apart
So when I’m rippin’, it’s hard to tell whether if it is really because
Of how offensive I am, or just what a bitch that you are
Like I never had to get my clothes at fucking St. Vincent de Paul
Like I don’t make sure every sentence and bar with a pencil is sharp, and I’m quick on the draw
Yeah, so when I pull it, surprise (Pull it, surprise), like Kendrick Lamar
You need to walk the Yellow Brick Road and find the chick with the dog
‘Cause y’all are missing a heart
Plus your bitch is giving out brain like the Wizard of Oz
This shit is like sitting in the principal’s office getting scolded for skipping
Y’all got detention tomorrow
I’m severe like Benzo withdrawal
Bitch, your skin’s gonna crawl
I’m invincible, I’ve been through it all
Like I never thought about just ending it ’til I got pissed off and put a fist through the wall
My back was against
Now I rap like I’m possessed, that’s nine-tenths of the law
Oh
Oh, fuck it
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