Last Dance lyrics

[Intro]
They finna hear this b*tch and be like, "What the f*ck?"
b*tch
b*tch, yeah
Huh, yeah, huh, ayy

[Verse]
Hit him in his omelette, boy, the chop full of Jimmy Dean
If Tron say "f*ck you", you know I'm on Jimmy team
Count money, why I see fame? Feel like Slimmy B
Hunnid ARs, hunnid Glocks with 'bout fifty beams
Throw some lil' cheddar on his head, get him swiss cheesed
Wouldn't even give her ass a blessing if the b*tch sneezed
High school, was Arena stepping, boy, them big B's
Head so good, almost said some sh*t I didn't mean
Punched a hunnid 12 Pros, damn near the Max Man
If I could, I'll throw yo album in the trash can
Glock 23, I'll give a opp his last dance
You ain't gotta ask me where I'm at, it's the Lab, man
I can feel the f*cking GOAT running through my DNA
Only time you see me with a scrub if she a CNA
If he know I scammed Jesus, what would Jesus say?
How I'm feeling, f*ck Ichiban, it's a pita day
Yeah, f*ck it, I'ma hit Coney
Feel like Hugh Hef', everywhere I go that b*tch on me
Name really should've been "Quan" 'cause I'm rich, homie
You couldn't get a punch up out of me if I was Mick Foley
Closet 'bout to flood the damn crib 'cause it's drip only
He'll catch a .223 before I put a fist on me
Funny how my Yeezys got my motherf*cking kit glowing
Seen a lil' snow, punched a Moncler by Rick Owens
Every single lil' place I go, know the Glock poking
Told her I might be a lot of things but I'm not broke
If you see a opp, gang jumping off the top row
Put a hunnid holes in him, f*ck around and Croc bro
Catch a opp at his venue, we'll rock show
On some real sh*t, ain't a scam I do not know
Bro bust exotic pops open and he drop four
Shells put him on the ground for beef, that's a taco
On the block with ninety-nine shots, feel like Tacko Fall
You a motherf*cking moron, think I'm not gon' ball
I ain't even tell the b*tch my name, she said, "Drop yo drawers"
Said he got the juice? Might f*ck around and have to mop yo dawg
When I'm in store all I f*cking know is grab giffy
Backshots, backshots, b*tch got her ass Ricky
On the road, keep telling my b*tch this the last city
Still up Glock knowing I could beat yo ass, really
White b*tch eating di*k on cam, I'm Jamal Murray
Hunnid f*cking Glocks at the spot and they all 30
Opps got a single thing in common, why they all dirty?
Threw her in a mink, my b*tch walk around all furry
Opps said it's on the floor, I told them n*ggas bet it up
Reach for anything? Pop yo ass like you 7 Up
She know I'm a Christian 'cause my shoe bottoms red as f*ck
Push my f*cking Yeezys on the gas, ain't no letting up
Let him play foul, Dee blowing, he a referee
Dior's Christian as f*ck, I done blessed my feet
Green light done made a opp stop, he done met my beam
You done let yo b*tch meet sh*ttyBoyz, now she left yo team
We don't want her, she a free agent
Everywhere I f*cking go Glock poking, piece dangling
Think he wanna fight? Must f*ck around and wanna meet angels
TrVan Gogh, might f*ck around and have Dee paint you
[Outro]
Yeah
b*tch, we— huh
b*tch, we really sh*t, huh
Yeah, b*tch, I'm giffy
b*tch, yeah, we giffy lit
Yeah, I'm in that one bag on this b*tch, man
Feel like the old sh*ttyBoyz