South Memphis Rugrats (feat. PaperRoute Woo) [Remix]

I say what I mean, I mean what I say

Bitch

Gone in sixty seconds, never let a bitch stress me (Uh-uh)

Before the microphone, I made a milli' off the celly (Yeah)

I love to see her walk away because it look like jelly (Shake)

Went from zero to sixty in two seconds on Pirellis

I'm always at the jewelry store, I got a diamond fetish (Ice)

Smokin' on this kale while I'm countin' up this lettuce (Yeah)

Stack it to the sky, I believe that I can fly

Told the man in the mirror that you one hell of a guy

If I can do it, so can you, but shit, who the hell am I?

Who said it's lonely at the top? 'Cause that's a motherfuckin' lie

I brought my homeboys with me, ballin' in South Memphis like Dubai

Rolls Royces back-to-back-to-back-to-back, oh my god

(God, god, god, god, god, god, god, god, god)

I mean that shit (God, god, god, god, god, god, god)

Hold up, let me finish (Wait)

She so fine, I put it in and tried to touch her kidneys

I'm too motherfuckin' rich to go and eat at Denny's (What?)

But fuck that, I'm in a Jack Pirtle's drive-thru in a Bentley (Hey)

Front seat got my semi (Uh), opps, yeah, I got plenty (For real, though)

Playin' with these M's, but I started out with pennies (Yeah)

A hundo in my skinnies (Yeah)

Louis XIII, shots of top-shelf Remy (Yeah)

Grew up thuggin' just like Hoover Deuce, baby Jimmy

Bitch, hey (Hey)

Yeah, I grew up thuggin', I'm a South Memphis rugrat (Rugrat)

Baguettes drippin' on my neck, these bitches love that (Drip)

When I pop out, I got big, gigantic, stupid racks (Big racks)

Fuck a job, I beat the block, I had to flip a pack (Flip it)

Self-made ****, I'm hustlin' (Hustlin')

Can't go back to the days when I ain't have nothin'

But I won't forget 'bout the struggle (Nah)

I was just stackin' up racks in the trap in my shoebox, now I stuff that shit in a duffle (For real)

My plug keep sendin' them loads and I just keep flushin' 'em, call him back, I need another one (Another one)

Ridin' 'round town with a pocket full of Jacksons, I stack up them hundreds and fifties (Fifties)

Keep me a Draco, it got a banana clip, and the AR came with titties

Thirty-three shots in my Glock, Scottie Pippen (Yeah)

Double my cup, so you know what I'm sippin' (Double up)

Really havin' this shit, ****, no, I ain't trippin' (Nah)

Paper Route the mob, ****, I'm never flippin' (Yeah, on gang)

Yeah, I ain't never flippin' (Flippin')

Only thing that a young **** is flippin' is these motherfuckin' packs that I'm gettin' (Yeah, that I'm gettin')

And I ain't worried 'bout none of these lil' broke-ass **** or these bitches (Bitches)

Everything a **** do out here in these streets, they just gon' mimic (Yeah, mimic)

Seventy-five hundred for a show, lil' ****, I'm booked, ain't no gimmick (Yeah, no gimmick)

All my cars 6.0s, them bitches V8, yeah, they Hemis (Hemis)

Young **** really havin' motion, I done served the whole damn Memphis (Memphis)

Make a play with white, it end up bitter or Mac Miller (Mac Miller)

Really made a killin', off of vacuum sealin' (Sealin')

Never been in love 'cause I can't really catch no feelings (No feelings)

Never had no nine-to-five 'cause I love drug dealin' (Drug dealin')

Been up in that field, lil' ****, go and ask lil' Willy (Lil' Willy)

Beat the block up 'til the dope all gone (Yeah, yeah)

Trappin' real, real hard off of two phones (Yeah, both of 'em)