BREAKFAST (feat. BlueBucksClan)

Turn they back on me, I ain't even trip

Yeah, we gon' keep grinding like the fuckin' Clipse

**** yelling out they real, then be fake as shit

How you look me in my eyes and you telling lies?

Let a bad bitch drive, while I rub her thighs

We keep pulling up with sticks like we going blind

We them **** punching in on the goal line

I just spilt my whole cup, fucking up my high

Weak bitches at the stu, fucking up my vibe

How I feel about my ****, words can't describe

We be deep up in them trenches trying to stay alive

Yeah, once you cross that line, ain't no coming back

I might fuck that bitch once bet not get attached

Dior on my feet, Gucci on my back

Like a bad ass kid, shit don't even match

Whoa

This that vibe, don't kill it

Take that bitch to breakfast in my hood, she gotta feel it

I was one hundred with all them ****

When they was kickin' it

Sippin drank like Weezy

In the coupe, no ceilings

Pocket got a cashball in it

We been shopping where the white folks at

Trying to fit in

I'll do Gucci with the Dior

I ain't even tripping like that

See, I been sleeping through the day, working night shift

Wish little bro could post the bail, but he a flight risk

They play my music videos in indictments

Fendi socks, finna pull up on my overnight bitch

I love the Rollins and I love Pooh, 'cause that's who made me

Talking 'bout my daughter when I put Gucci on my baby

Make her wake up in the morning thinking 'bout me daily

And in my city, **** shooting

Ain't no fading, just let it bang him, yeah

Me and all my **** on, we got ranking, yeah

Talking 'bout it's up, we gone leave him planking

Big Drac', but I let it spit like Dave East, yeah

Big chop singing like JoJo and K-Ci, yeah

My bitch go to college, look like Raven Tracy, yeah

One fifty with the roof down, like fuck a AC, yeah

I ain't hate them ****, shorty, **** hating me, yeah

Real **** hard to face me 'cause them **** ain't me

Ah

This that vibe, don't kill it

Take that bitch to breakfast in my hood, she gotta feel it

I was one hundred with all them ****

When they was kickin' it

Sippin drank like Weezy

In the coupe, no ceilings

Pocket got a cashball in it

We been shopping where the white folks at

Trying to fit in

I'll do Gucci with the Dior

I ain't even tripping like that

Mixing Gucci with Dior, I don't trip none

Mixing Prada with the Louis, this shit getting fun

Remember walking through the mall, I couldn't get none

Now, I'm finna be my momma first rich son

This that breakfast in the hood, come get some

Take a bougie Bitch to town, tell her pick some

Dice game on the porch, bet I hit some

BucksClan, we just scored, yeah, we really up

Half a pound in the club, yeah, that's really us

They just said ain't no smoking, we just lit it up

When I shop, if I like it, I just pick it up

Double S with Da Vinci, I don't give a fuck

Double R coming in behind a Bentley truck

Lot of grams in my wood, ain't no skinny blunts

Lot of blues in my pocket, I got plenty bucks

Wanna hang with the clan, get your Benji's up

With another **** bitch, finna live it up

Eating waffles in a foreign, roll the window up

Spilling syrup on my pants in a Bentley truck

**** hating, **** plotting, we don't give a fuck

Walking in the club, we don't need no IDs

Black bitch high as fuck, she look Chinese

Drink a 5th to myself, yeah, don't mind me

Race it to a 40 piece, ****, time me