Joggers (feat. Stunna 4 Vegas)

I keep tryna pull up my pants

I got thirty thousand in my joggers

I got the pistol on the flight

I just flew out to LA from Charlotte

That bitch ain't get shit for Christmas, she naughty

In the car with her head down, she noddin'

And her boyfriend gon' act like he with it

Till I put this .45 on his noggin

Fuck all that talkin', just put a few mill on the table

And give me a pen and I'm signin'

I just cut off my bitch, why? 'Cause you ain't really with me, be honest

She know I'm a motherfuckin' pimp, she don't get steak and shrimp

B done took a lil' bitch to McDonalds

Put a bag on your motherfuckin' head, better watch what you said

On my motherfuckin' pics and my comments

In the four I'm a motherfuckin' giant

A king like a motherfuckin' lion

All these lil' **** act like they want that

We gon' slide in our DMs, we slidin'

Better call up the homicide unit, I make 'em pull out yellow tape with the sirens

They gon' make me come set that bitch off

When I pull that bitch out it's, too late to say sorry

**** thought I was pussy 'cause they heard me singin' to bitches like YK Osiris

I got my mind on my money

Let's run up some motherfuckin' commas

Let's go to the motherfuckin' bank

Bitch, I'm from Charlotte, we blank

Mama told me to pull up my pants

Got them racks on me, mama, I can't

I keep tryna pull up my pants

I got thirty thousand in my joggers

I got the pistol on the flight

I just flew out to LA from Charlotte

That bitch ain't get shit for Christmas, she naughty

In the car with her head down, she noddin'

And her boyfriend gon' act like he with it

Till I put this .45 on his noggin

I keep tryna pull up my pants

This big forty hangin' out my joggers

I grew up around them apartments

Now I'm in LA like a Dodger

Won't beef over tweets

I send my young **** walk down on your ass like he stalkin'

Uh, leave him fresh to death in a coffin

I'm on Runtz from Cookie I'm coughin'

Always up like I'm booted on molly

These lil' **** 12, they talkin'

They can't keep up, Stunna a problem

I can't keep these bitches off me

Yeah, we bringin' eyes in the party

Make him play with that stick on him till he say sorry

Fuck who? I beg your pardon

One cop please when shit get started

I keep tryna pull up my pants

This big pistol hangin' out my joggers

She eat dick when I land

Hit from the back, she call me her father

From my bro I'll take the stand

Hand on the Bible and lie to your honor

Big dawg, you lil' **** is toddlers

On the way to the show in the Sprinter with choppers

I keep tryna pull up my pants

I got thirty thousand in my joggers

I got the pistol on the flight

I just flew out to LA from Charlotte

That bitch ain't get shit for Christmas, she naughty

In the car with her head down, she noddin'

And her boyfriend gon' act like he with it

Till I put this .45 on his noggin