Different Bracket lyrics

[Intro]
(Rocaine, baby)

[Verse 1: Nuk]
From a source, I heard you take it
I'ma show her how we ball, I got her court side with the gangsters
From a source, they heard we make it
In the trap, I'm catching balls like I'm a shortstop, I'm with ****
We put up thirty-three like Danny Grainger
Boy, I really play the hills, I put a trap by forest rangers
I got a b*tch that's out of town sellin' dope, boy, I'm the man
They know I got that type of money that turn Coach into a Benz
You sell eight-balls by the tenth
Boy, the only time my fiends withdrawal, it's ATM
I can outsell you alone
When I take it out thе pot, watch how an ounce still hit the phone
Pop a Pеrc' and then I wear her out, do it like it's fashion
Why I call her wildlife, she got a pus*y like a badger
We hit the mall and spend it all, we do not like to hassle
Creep while I got Drac' and I'm gon' do you like Degrassi

[Chorus: G.T.]
Ayy, this real money, not that little sh*t you like flashin'
Bust a bag down to rap about it, whippin' fashion
b*tch heard me talking money, she thought I was braggin'
Just know I'm gettin' chicken with some extra cabbage
Fifty on me all blues, look like I'm doing taxes
New whip, dark tint when I'm out in traffic
Hit the road, where I'm going, bro, you know I tax 'em
Don't even talk about no pape', we in a different—
[Verse 2: Molly Brazy]
Broke n*gga sayin' they f*cked, did they tell you they was dreaming?
Give the ho to your n*gga, b*tch, I bet he leave you
Bad b*tch, every time I drip it's new season
All y'all hoes weak, b*tch, you probably the weakest
Lashes on fleek, face beat, neck blingin'
Expensive-ass bundles, good inches, I'll swing it
My n*gga love this pus*y, always saying I'm a demon
Get another cold b*tch, we gon' tag-team him
New bag with the shoes, b*tch, you know I need it
Hit the set with all blues, b*tch, you know I'm eatin'
Little b*tch keep lookin' at me, think she wanna eat it
Hatin'-ass broke hoes mad, they wanna be me
You know about the gang, drop classics and sh*t
Bad b*tches on the 'Gram double-tapping my pics
And all the rich n*ggas wanna cast me some sh*t
If you a ham, get you robbed, call the gang on the lick

[Chorus: G.T.]
Ayy, this real money, not that little sh*t you like flashin'
Bust a bag down to rap about it, whippin' fashion
b*tch heard me talking money, she thought I was braggin'
Just know I'm gettin' chicken with some extra cabbage
Fifty on me all blues, look like I'm doing taxes
New whip, dark tint when I'm out in traffic
Hit the road, where I'm going, bro, you know I tax 'em
Don't even talk about no pape', we in a different bracket