Hoe Shit

Damn, damn, damn

Bitch, bitch, bitch

Pull some of that bass out, Bruce

Prolly should've went to school, I went the hard way

I remember fuckin' bitches in the hallways

"Prolly never gonna make it", what they all say

Now I walk in Neiman Marcus and I ball, baby

I can't even trust the homies 'cause we all shady

Steady givin' **** passes, boy, you Tom Brady

I done made a half a ticket and it's gone, baby

But a **** still ballin', shit beyond crazy

Who gon' be there in the end when it's gone?

If you my homie, why you never call my phone?

If we can't do it, I'ma get it on my own

I could drop like thirty thousand, get you gone

I'm sick of rappin' so I'm talkin' on my songs (I'm talkin')

In real life, you just poppin' on yo' phone (You ain't)

Internet ****, Instagram thugs

You was on yo' couch, I blew twenty in the club, for real (Big bands, ****)

I could turn a good girl to a sex worker

If a **** try to rob me, I'll attempt murder)

I just play the cards I was dealt, ****

Tryna play me? Go play yourself, ****

Say I'm livin' too fast but I disagree

You don't see this two liter with a six of lean? (Pink poppin')

Watch yo' back, **** change like the seasons

I'ma up this .40 Glock, give me a reason (I'ma up it)

These **** dick ridin', on some ho shit

I've been gettin' to this money, on my grown shit

I done made myself a bag, I don't know shit

And why these **** think they on? They ain't on shit

We rock designer, boy, I been did that (I been did)

Pulled out twenty thousand, made it all right back

I got this .30 in my pants, that's why I walk like that

I got these VV's in my mouth, that's why I talk like that

I'm on the 110 doing one-ten (Skrrt)

I'm at the Ritz with yo' bitch and her ho friends

I just popped a Percocet, she ain't got no chance

I give her real **** dick, not no romance

I let some money hit the floor, watch 'em pick it up

I pull this pistol out my denim, make you give it up

I'm goin' crazy, pray that I won't murder a ****

All these **** is my sons, I get to birthing you ****, ha

I don't fuck with you, you don't fuck with me

Let's get into it, one of us gon' have to be deceased (Pew, pew, pew)

Have your family Instagram with them RIP's

Finna put this **** face on a all-white tee

I can't help it, dollar signs, boy, that's all I see

They'd rather see me on my back, but I'm on my feet (Aye, aye)

But I'm on my feet, they'd rather see me on my back, but I'm on my feet

You **** dick ridin', on some ho shit

I've been gettin' to this money, on my grown shit

I done made myself a bag, I don't know shit

And why these **** think they on? They ain't on shit

We rock designer, boy, I been did that (I been did)

Pulled out twenty thousand, made it all right back

I got this .30 in my pants, that's why I walk like that

I got these VV's in my mouth, that's why I talk like that, ****