Boy (feat. P-Lo)

Yo

P-Lo, time to bring the bass back

Yo, yo

Ay, yeah

Wake, wake shit up, ay

On my mama, I can't make shit up, ay

If I ain't a real boy, what you call it

I don't think you want no problems

Wake, wake shit up, ay

On my mama, I can't make shit up, ay

If I ain't a real boy, what you call it

I don't think you want no problems

You see it, you see it, you see it

VSs in my grill, you peeped it, you peeped it

I'm a boy for real, I keep it, I keep it, uh

On me, stay heated, I knock the meat out your pita

Crack them gates up in Rita, or should I say jail

JPay, Corrlinks, and Music by Mail

I started with nothing, ended up with a lot

All my life, I been hustling and clutching choppers and Glocks

Man, I get it to pop whenever I'm on the block

Never know who will score when you feed 'em the rock

Six in the morning, dreads at my spot

Ball on the floor, team ready to drop

Rum with scotch, I roll one up

Enough in my blunt to levitate like monks

Big boss status, ain't made for runts

Exotics online that'll wake shit up

Ay, yeah

Wake, wake shit up, ay

On my mama, I can't make shit up, ay

If I ain't a real boy, what you call it

I don't think you want no problems

Wake, wake shit up, ay

On my mama, I can't make shit up, ay

If I ain't a real boy, what you call it

I don't think you want no problems

I'm authentic

Got a peeler and a heater when I'm off in it

When I meet her I'ma need about a soft minute

We could chop it over lunch, maybe talk spinach

Got a product we can rock, and we walk with it

Get a bag, run it up, then we run it back

Give the pack to the yak, watch how they act

It's a wrap when it's wrapped and it's all intact

If I ain't a real boy, what you call that

Havin' at it, gettin' to it

I'm on this juice, same color as transmission fluid

Two units on my collarbone

But the screen cracked on my iPhone

And, uh, these **** dealing with they hormones

They acting like bitches, they need some tampons

I'm having my riches, I'm sitting on a few tickets

And I'll lay a **** out like a napkin

Ay, yeah

Wake, wake shit up, ay

On my mama, I can't make shit up, ay

If I ain't a real boy, what you call it

I don't think you want no problems

Wake, wake shit up, ay

On my mama, I can't make shit up, ay

If I ain't a real boy, what you call it

I don't think you want no problems

E'rything Gucci in another week

Just put the stash in the seven-three

Me and lil' bro, we don't even speak

Block me on the 'Gram, I ain't even peek

All I ever had was a bunch of love

Pop anybody tryna fuck with cuz

It is what it is, was what it was

Truth really is, we don't give a fuck

Rose gold Rucci on my Chevy, the paint wet

Bought a studio with my SoundExchange check

I'm a movie ho, you can find me on the set

Slapping dominoes, shooting dice, talking shit

Excruciating throb in the trunk of the mob

Mommy used to tell me to get me a job

I used to tell my mama, don't you worry, sahob

One day, my pockets gon' be as fat as the blob

Ay, yeah

Wake, wake shit up, ay

On my mama, I can't make shit up, ay

If I ain't a real boy, what you call it

I don't think you want no problems

Wake, wake shit up, ay

On my mama, I can't make shit up, ay

If I ain't a real boy, what you call it

I don't think you want no problems