Spazzing Out lyrics

[Intro]
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Uh, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Uh, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
(Ayy this that sh*t right here, dawg)
Uh, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Okay
Ayy, this sh*t crack
Ayy, Juice, this sh*t hot
On God, on God, ayy

[Verse 1]
First things first, never too much money
I'm sippin' on some purp', thumbing through these blue hundreds (Yah)
b*tch, I ain't tryna flirt, you gon' let me f*ck or somethin'? Yah
Glizzock in her tummy, I'm an animal, Jumanji, uh
Please don't run up on me, yeah, show me my opponent, yeah
You n*ggas jabronis, and not only that, you phony, yeah
You n*ggas don't want it, uh, go'n and board little homie
All that bullsh*t, don't condone it, shoot you, I'm an organ donor, yeah
If you play with me, b*tch, I'm goin' out like Tony
Carbon in the front seat when I'm riding 'round lonely
I get money in my sleep so I wake up money hungry
Told that b*tch I play for keeps, you can't play me like no dummy
Key Glock, how you get the foreign?
b*tch, backends off of touring
Where you put all of that money?
Damn, your bankroll enormous
I be sh*ttin', I need some Charmin
I be killin' all my targets
Smokin', smellin' like I farted
Damn, I just funked up the party
Big pints, no bottles, uh, drinkin' 'til tomorrow, yeah
Yeah, b*tch I get dollars, uh, I'm a don dada, yeah
Harlem GlobeTrotter, uh, shoot you and your partner, uh
Racks in my pocket got me walking with a wobble, yeah
Lean with it, rock with it
Sippin' on some Wock' ('Hardt)
Motherf*ck the cops, uh (n*gga)
Tell 'em suck a c*ck, yeah
b*tch I send shots, uh (n*gga)
n*gga I don't box, yeah
You know I cannot, not stop gettin' this guap
I pulled up with the top off, made her panties drop, yeah
f*cked your future wife in my Gucci flip-flops
Talkin' 'bout can she spend the night? b*tch, kick rocks
Talkin' 'bout can she spend the night? b*tch, I think not, uh (What the f*ck?)
[Interlude]
Hold up, hold up, hold up, hold up, hold up
I be spazzin'
You ready?
Ayy, this sh*t sound so motherf*ckin' fire
Ayy, check this out, ayy

[Verse 2]
Dope boy sh*t, got my Air Max on, yeah
Riding down the block, grippin' on my chrome, yeah
You know what I got, b*tch, my money long, yeah
b*tch, it's big Glock, these hoes love my songs, uh

[Outro]
Yup, yup, yup, yup