Body Ya

R.I.P. to the competition

Uh, funeral, yeah

I got 'em

Shout out to my enemies

Shout out my competitors

Shout out to my mini mes

I hope you do better, bro

Better me, better you etc etc

Shout out to the followers

I will stay ahead of ya

Big up to the haters

Big up all you little ****

Bigging y'all up should make you feel a little bigger

Big up to the fake ****, from a real ****

Fake **** help you recognize the real ****

Uh, I'm a Brooklyn ****, anyhow

Closet looking like I opened up a Vinnie Styles

Bitches say, we are the best

So mommy in my jeans, P.R.P.S

Yeah, street fidda didda gang

Yeah, at you like a Twitter name

Same place I see em, same place they chalk 'em out

We speak Guapanese, come see what we talking bout

Holla at your homie, holla at your dog

Looking for the competition, holla at the morgue

Once I say hi to her, she gon' say bye to ya

If looks could kill then my style might body ya

B-b-body ya

B-body ya

If looks could kill then my style might body ya

B-b-body ya

B-b-body ya

If looks could kill then my style might body ya

Shout out to the groupies

Shout out to my ex

Prolly saying fuck me, so shout out to the sex

Don't get mad at me 'cause I'm onto the next

All of this because I ain't respond to your text

Big up to you bum bitches, in your ten dollar dresses

Big up to the big girls, y'all are so precious

Salty bitches tryna raise a **** blood pressure

Grown little girls, do your mouth get any fresher

Bet it ain't fresh as loso

Monogrammed out, son, in case you didn't know so

Flow so deadly, swag too murderous

Known for being nice, that don't mean courteous

This is nothing new, I'm not a beginner

I get big checks like the lottery winners

A boy dissing I, boy listen I

Kindly sent him on his way, tell the mortician, hi

Holla at your homie, holla at your dog

Looking for the competition, holla at the morgue

Once I say hi to her, she gon' say bye to ya

If looks could kill then my style might body ya

B-b-body ya

B-b-body ya

If looks could kill then my style might body ya

B-b-body ya

B-b-body ya

If looks could kill then my style might body ya

What it look like ****

Is your funeral

Told y'all **** I got this

There is no competition too

What up Dram?

What it look like?

What we talkin', baby?

These **** is dead

Yeah, I said it, dead

Nice

**** might as well lay down in the hole and throw dirt on they self

It's funeral