I'm around the bullsh*t like a matador
I'm used to the bullsh*t, it don't matter, boy
Corporate acquisitions, acc*mulations of wealth
Build with the gods and double knowledge of self
Entrepreneur visions, Moulin Rouge religion
That pus*y make a weak n*gga break down
So what you want, the cheese or the chicks'
You want the chicks but you want the cheese
A b*tch gotta eat
I'm havin' the epiphany you n*ggas ain't sh*t to me
Worse than the sc*m in the slum I'm from
I'm a southside n*gga, yeah I'm 'bout mine
You be that next n*gga coroners come and outline
You ain't made of what I'm made of
You a bum n*gga with a bum b*tch
Your shoes come from Vegas
Counterfeit, fraudulent fakers
What kind of rich n*gga b*tch look like that
[Chorus]
You all know when we pullin' off the lot
Brake, hit the button, then we pullin' down the top
Shine's on stuntin' and I'm pullin' out a knot
Strapped with the Glock, won't pull it out a lot
But front, I'll make it pop
Y'all don't do it how we do
n*ggas ain't on the sh*t we on
Everything new
Spikes on the Louis Vuittons
We up, n*gga!
Visualize everything I needed and dream (uh-huh)
Penalized every ho n*gga that have a scheme (what else?)
Guns in your video get you locked in a bing
Yeah, I kill a n*gga quick, no worries, my record clean
Murder one become manslaughter as soon as they brought up
Charity work, parking tickets and no charges
f*ck n*gga you f*cked over your father when he gave you a di*k
Should have been a b*tch in pajamas
I made my first million f*cking dollars
Bought a Bible, oh yeah, God got me
Made my second million dollars, bought a chopper and a binocular
I'm scared, this sh*t don't happen to everybody
I'm on Instagram looking at your favorite singer
Debating on should I f*ck her or jump on her single
20 thou, she got a hell of a adlib
I'm in her mouth like I knew I could have kids, K-Dot
[Chorus]
Good pus*y for dinner, bomb kush for breakfast
Deep-colored VS stones around my neck b*tch
It feels like a n*gga dreamin'
Seat back, music bumpin', n*ggas leanin'
Bulls eye, that's what we came for
The bread, now a n*gga run the game boy
I should've sent the broad to report what's in the yard
Aloof livin', I came up so hard
No pain, no gain, it's embedded in the brain
I'm in it for the grip, motherf*ck the fame
[Chorus]