Mac & Cheese (Dupe) lyrics

[Chorus]
Brr, ayy
Course I got the cheque, course I brought my banger
Yo' ho call me "Izzy," my ho call me "Zay," yeah
Scared to talk to you, I don't know what to say, yeah
I keep running up big bands, till my sh*t sprained
Talkin' spicy on these beats, yeah, just like pepper spray
I can let these lil n*ggas talk sh*t 'cause I'm not entertained, yeah
Call up Bri', go do your work, I had to tell that girl to wait, yeah

[Verse 1]
A.R. beat it, boom-bop, I just need the guwap
Might just cop some Moonrock, these Giuseppe, watch me moonwalk
It get flipped, yeah, that's a full bruh, bro you f*cking with them tools, bruh
Saved your brother from them shooters and we slide on bro we know he boo'd up
Ooh, we had to ride on bro, yeah, yeah, he had his Crocs on
Let them doggies bite on bro, yeah, yeah, then turn the FOX on
AR-47 fry yo' head just like a hot comb
Br—broke boy couldn't get no GTC, he tried to box tho
Whippin' out this Mazi, brodie sippin Quali'
I feel safer with them choppers, feel like I'm the trending topic
f*cked this bad ho, got the top bit, he can't see, ayy, make the top lift
With no delay make the chop rip, I'm like PK like to fire sh*t
I'm like BK like to fry sh*t, baby, what's your favorite color diamonds?
On vacay, can't tell where I'm is, ayy bro, what the time is?
Yeah he just got like five heads, got twins on di*k, they Siamese
[Chorus]
Brr, ayy
Course I got the cheque, course I brang my banger
Yo' ho call me "Izzy," my ho call me "Zay,'' yeah
Scared to talk to you, I don't know what to say, yeah
I keep running up big bands, till my sh*t sprained
Talkin spicy on these beats, yeah, just like pepper spray
I can let these lil n*ggas talk sh*t cus I'm not entertained, yeah
Call up Bri', go do your work, I had to tell that girl to wait, yeah

[Verse 2]
Yeah, I got some hittas, they be makin' cheese
And I been through sh*t that you cannot believe
Cooking crack up with no mask, might turn you to a fiend
Lost my brother to the Percs, they call that sh*t OD
But its homicidal
Stacking up these racks, its stacking like the Eiffel
Run up, meet the Glock, or you might meet the rifle
When I sober up, I start getting suicidal
So I just smoke the dope
And my shorty bad, she a throat goat
Choppas in this b*tch, they in the floorboards
Can't tell you where it is, just bring me more lo's

[Chorus]
Brr, ayy
Course I got the cheque, course I brang my banger
Yo' ho call me "Izzy," my ho call me "Zay,'' yeah
I keep running up big bands, till my sh*t sprained
Talkin spicy on this b*tch, yeah, just like pepper spray
I can let these lil n*ggas talk sh*t cus I'm not entertained, yeah