Harriet Tubman lyrics

[Verse]
His b*tch ass brought a gun, he think he tough, he ain't even test it
We gon' shoot him and his b*tch, just so they can get the message
We the youngest in the city, gettin' money and still wreckin'
In the rental, cruisin', thirty racks on me, I'm no pedestrian, n*gga
How you gettin' money? You ain't bail out or beat the case
I'm the one that told 'em bring his head back and leave his face
I told my driver don't pull over, they gon' charge us anyway
We got three ratchets, four stars, lil' bro still bеat the chase
I be with thеm killers, pull up shootin' sh*t just like a visual
I be in the field tryna score a touchdown like George Kittle
Granny asked me what's that on my wrist, I said an icicle
Only thing I ever wanted was some cash and a McLaren
Ayy, broski shoot this sh*t up, why these n*ggas keep on starin'?
In the Louis store out in New York, cashin' out like RJ Barrett
If this rap sh*t don't work, f*ck it, you know I can hustle
I done built a new road for all my n*ggas like I'm Harriet Tubman