It’s All on U lyrics

[Intro: Icewear Vezzo]
Antt did the track
(Beat Gang)
Huh

[Verse 1: Icewear Vezzo]
Yeah, never let them pus*y n*ggas play me
Put that on my baby, Forgis on a Maybach truck, it cost two-eighty
Richer than them n*ggas that be hatin'
Shooters like McGrady in Kentucky, with that fetti goin' crazy, huh
Stick tucked, I let my chain hang
Rich and gang bang
Leave a fifty in this b*tch to rain in, huh
Bustin' sh*t, don't wear no Plain Jane
Hundred-thousand dollar Rollie, Scottdale, an AP on the same hand
You with the opps, that mean you ain't my mans
You movin' like the cops, can't take a chance, thirty-thousand in my pants
Yeah, dog sh*t in my pockets, where your bands?
Hit the show with thirty hitters
I'm with Cudi, he'll blick before he land
Cash it all the time, don't wait for sh*t
Twenty chains, crazy kid
Rich n*gga, I can't f*ck no basic b*tch
You never been no boss, you drankin' tris
You never been no shooter, you's a b*tch
Quay Quay with me, he got stick, huh
Pour the Wocky up and drop a six
Icy than a b*tch, put my city on the map, we in the mix
I been slimin' sh*t out since a jit
Cuban cost two bricks
We got all them thirsty hoes takin' pics
You wanna sign me? Yellin' out three mill'
Tweakin' in this b*tch, just popped a pill
Gang 'nem yellin' out, "Free Kill"
Yeah, f*ck a record label, we too real
f*ck award shows, we in the field
Shoot that chopper like I'm skilled, n*gga
[Verse 2: Kodak Black]
I love my lil' bean 'cause she real
She want me at my best but love me at my worst, still
I can't let 'em kill Bill
I keep three Glocks and a stick
One regular, one got a di*k
One of 'em fully, with a fifty and a switch
A n*gga diss, his ass better stay focused
Nowadays, the real n*ggas be doin' a lot of ho sh*t
Yeah, you know me, I'm on my zone sh*t
My n*ggas don't speak english
All they know is when we pull up, hop out, squeeze and
I'm f*ckin' demonin' him
Bullets miss, I'm immortal
And I'm bossin' up, I got the 'Rari truck on pre-order
The fifty for the Richard Mill', I ain't even see a quarter
I need my twenty-five, where I reside, these n*ggas down shorter
I got expensive taste
I'm drankin' Wock', I scrape
Takin' zaza to the face, on a private jet in either state
They see they down for me but really fakin'
Ain't one to help, put on my shoes, man, I couldn't tie my laces (Yeah)
Like John Gotti, beat a thousand cases
We keepin' people straight, they doin' voodoo way in Haiti
I'ma speak my mind every time, I don't care how you take it
I keep it real, and for that all the real, n*ggas embrace me
Jumped off the tour bus and all the b*tches start to chase me
But then my pockets start spreadin', I big faced it
The cheese, the cheese done got me beefin' with my lady
She pulled up to the ugly corner, jumped out, tryna mace me
(Beat Gang)