(Rah, it’s BKay, una)
Bap, bap
Here we go (Huh?), here we go (Huh?), here we go (Go), again (Bap, bap)
Here we go (Huh?), here we go (Huh?), here we go (Go), again (Bap, bap)
Here we go (Huh?), here we go (Huh?), here we go (Go), again (Bap, bap)
No, we ain’t making amends (Huh?)
Fuck you and your pop down friends
It’s Chy Yachty here again (Again), I’m back on that shit again (Again)
Red on top of my head, I got blessed in, I feel like a hand (What?)
Bitch, let’s get to the facts (Facts), I wanna fuck you again (Again)
She said bring out the racks (The racks), I said here go a ten (Ten)
Ayy, ayy, ayy, hmm (Phew), to all my sisters who bosses (Hmm)
Rocking them Chrome Heart crosses (Yeah), and brushing off all they losses (Yeah)
I’m G-U-double C-I, bitch, don’t ask why, you’re weak, and I’m off it (Ski)
Tattoos under my eyes, no disguise, I don’t do gossip
Chy, Chy, Chy, Chy (Cartier)
Chy, Chy, Chy, Chy (Where ya at? Where ya at?)
(Bap, bap)
Here we go, here we go (Huh?), here we go (Go), again (Again)
No, we ain’t makin’ amends (No)
Fuck you and your pop down friends (Fuck you)
Skrrt, and I’m stiggy (Skrrt, skrrt, skrrt), whip the Benz through the ends (Woo)
Tryna lay low, but they clockin’ the bands, so I can’t even blend (So I can’t even blend)
I got the racks, and it’s blatant
Run up a cheque (Bap), check my statement (Run it up, bap)
Rick O, the leather ain’t patent (Nah)
Show you how to ball, we can make some arrangements (Boy)
Hop on your knees and sin (Yeah)
If I can be direct (Yeah), I-I-I can move all tens (Yeah)
I like ’em thick and thin (Yeah)
It’s true that I got a fetish for dykes, I bag ’em and put ’em in Timbs (Yeah)
I’m closer to God, but I ride around with the grim when lights get dim
Show me your pussy, aight (Yeah), get you a Birkin for it
She want a triple D (Yeah), I send you to Turkey for it
And Cartier with me (Yeah), look like she could be my sister
FN sitting on me (Yeah) anytime you ask for a picture (Uh, uh), pussy (Brrt, brrt, brrt)
Here we go, here we go (Huh?), here we go (Go), again (Again)
No, we ain’t makin’ amends (No)
Fuck you and your pop down friends (Fuck you)
Skrrt, and I’m stiggy (Skrrt, skrrt, skrrt), whip the Benz through the ends (Woo)
Tryna lay low, but they clockin’ the bands, so I can’t even blend
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