For the Win

Bad shit

(Look at that shit right there)

(We call this song "Fuck the world")

Bad shit, bad shit

Aye, aye, aye, aye

Look at that jag, that bitch so fast

Catch up lil' goofy, I ain't lookin' back

Lookin', reachin', grabbin' bags

Like magic, it's comin', I'm runnin', and hidin'

For world order, slaughter daughters daily

Pay me now, I'm demandin' them benjis

I'm sorry you hate me, I'm tryna change it

But momma done told me I'm fucked up

Off that bag, line it up, hold on, hit that yak

You 'bout it, you claim it, you lost in sedation

Tryna trade places with somebody famous

I'll never be that guy, master of disguise

All black, no mask, on your back

My man's got .223's and they smack

Off that bag, line it up, hold on, hit that yak

Off that bag, line it up, hold on, hit that yak

Be ready to bruise them knees

You suckin' me down till you bleed

Ain't never had what I wanted to, do ya feel the greed?

Passin' up bitches, now they see the flea

Ride wit me, ball wit me, hold me down

I get that call, we run down servin' hot shit

Believe me, please don't play with me

Big bank take lil' bank

Fuck 'em, left 'em stank

Big body, candy paint

Hoes in da back and they throwin' da pay

Fifty-nine killas at da fuckin' buffet

You know we eatin' good today

Migos wit da shits, andale

Off that bag, line it up, hold on, hit that yak

Off that bag, line it up, hold on, hit that yak

Off that bag, line it up, hold on, hit that yak

Off that bag, line it up, hold on, hit that yak

Off that bag, line it up, hold on, hit that yak

Off that bag, line it up, hold on, hit that yak