Why So Serious? lyrics

[Intro]
Here we go
(Brrt) Yeah, come on
(Classic)
(Okay Jones)
Haven't heard about you, n*gga
(Really ran this sh*t up, man, we still runnin' it up) Come on, ayy

[Chorus]
Heard them n*ggas tellin' (Tellin'), I can't take em serious (Uh)
This ain't Crate & Barrel, b*tch, these plates come from Liberia (Yeah)
Bought my OG a crib, spent your stash on her interior (I did)
A n*gga used to serve and make his plays at Imperial (For real)
Make the glass move with no hands like Matilda (Ayy, ayy)
Took the bag on a long journey like a pilgrim (For real)
Talkin' to myself, like, "f*ck these n*ggas, they don't feel you" (Yeah)
Touch a hair on me in here, we blowin' up the building (Brrt, brrt)

[Verse 1]
I been jumpin' off the jet all week (Yeah)
Hoppin' off that big boy, and not that sh*t off JetSuite (For real)
White buffs off the mink, you can tell I'm from the D ('Troit)
She like, "How you ain't move and make two hundred in a week?" (Brrt)
That's what happen when you get 'em in cheap (Come on)
Told a b*tch, "I'm a P, you wanna f*ck, pay the fee" (Come on)
A hundred for the Daytona, spent fifty on the piece (Yeah)
And that was just for the charm, thirty pointers for the link
n*ggas' stash real low, but they talk like they up
Come and get money with us, we make dogs outta pups (Grr)
Make sure she stay fly, A to a D cup (Come on)
Teach her about ice, the color, clarity, and cut (n*gga)
[Chorus]
Heard them n*ggas tellin' (Yeah), I can't take em serious (Uh)
This ain't Crate & Barrel (Nah), b*tch, these plates come from Liberia (Yeah)
Bought my OG a crib, spent your stash on her interior (For real)
A n*gga used to serve and make his plays at Imperial (Ice, ice, ice)

[Verse 2]
Sippin' lean, mixin' beans, this sh*t bad for my health (Ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy)
Mixin' Saint with Saint Laurent off a Goyard belt
I'm out here, gettin' to that money, I don't know 'bout nothin' else (I don't)
Man, them boys ain't drop sh*t, they must got 'em on the shelf
Four-four in a twenty-ounce, this a thousand-dollar Fanta (Come on)
If we beefin', I'm harassin', all the straps got heat tracking (Yeah)
I don't know how them n*ggas still broke, go get a package (For real)
Even the youngins got a bag around me, they card crackin' (Ayo)
Car jackin', he been taxed for that big whip and mansion (Come on)
I hit the road so much that I could drive there backwards (Brrt)
Bro was right, you'd be rich if you sit there and stack it (Stack it up)
R.I.P. Virgil, seven thousand for a jacket, n*gga (Ayy)

[Chorus]
Heard them n*ggas tellin' (n*gga), I can't take em serious (Come on)
This ain't Crate & Barrel, b*tch, these plates come from Liberia (Yeah)
Bought my OG a crib, spent your stash on her interior (I did)
A n*gga used to serve and make his plays at Imperial (Ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy)
Make the glass move with no hands like Matilda (Classic)
Took the bag on a long journey like a pilgrim (Okay Jones)
Talkin' to myself, like, "f*ck these n*ggas, they don't feel you"
Touch a hair on me in here, we blowin' up the building, n*gga