Run up on me then you catchin' a funeral
I scratch it off write it in Roman numerals
I f*cked that b*tch in the back and I swear that I never loved her I just want to hit her
I f*cked that b*tch now I'm hitting her sister
Run up on me you get spin like a twister
Told you before I don't f*ck with these n*ggas
I got my hand on on my hand on my trigger
Imma go get 'em, she on my di*k hoppin', I'm callin' her tigger
I tell her "go figure"
She [?], I’m talkin Hilfiger
Tommy on me, I ain't talking Hilfiger
That b*tch a gun
Run up on me, I got heat like the sun
Count up to 2 cause I am not the 1, uh
Better locked up, Akon
All my other n*ggas they gone
R.I.P to all they souls, condolences to all they moms, uh
That’s just how it is
I’m in the bank, makin’ it flip, talkin’ that sh*t
I hit yo b*tch just like a lick
I’m with the sh*ts, I pass the 'Roc
Ain’t no assist, b*tch on my c*ck
Run up on me then you get shot
I feel like [?], I got the Juice, back when the cut, callin’ it Pac, yuh
I’m in the cut with the nina
I’m wettin’ it up like this sh*t Aquafina
You run up on me then I’m servin’ em’ bullets like tennis balls
n*gga ain’t talkin’ Serena
All of my n*ggas get money for real
I do money for shows, I cash out on arenas
I take yo b*tch, f*ck her
Send to the cleaners
Run up on me then I’m killin’
I swear that my hand on my nina
Don’t want no smoke
All of these n*ggas ain’t nothin’ but jokes
Run up on me like a.. like a Facebook post, lil n*gga, you poked, uh
I’m a rich n*gga, you broke, uh
Must be a pimp, you a ho, yah
Run up on me, let’s go
[gunshot sounds] hop on ghosts
Yeah, yeah, yeah
I’m finna catch myself, yeah, uh
Breath in and out, I had to catch my breath
Now imma spaz on they ass
I leave em’ leakin’ on maxi pads
Hotter than a n*gga in New York with a bag full of clothes tryna catch a taxi cab
Run up on a n*gga, that chopper blast
Told you I cannot do battle rap
f*ck ass tryna battle, that sh*t kill
O'neal, rim rattle that
n*ggas, they snitch, they tattle that
Send that sh*t back, damn
You must be dope, b*tch I’m crack, yuh
Damn, a couple of grams, to be exact, yuh
sh*t I’m young, rich and black, yeah, yeah
So you know they hatin’ that
I’m finna spaz on they ass and you know it
You run up on me then I’m shootin’, it’s over
I got a way with words, they call me a poet, damn
Run up on me then I’m soaking
That .40 on me and you know that it’s blowin, you know that I’m towin’
Your b*tches are hoeing, you know that sh*t goin, uh
I met that b*tch on the lowin’
I picked up on a high route, we smokin’, huh
Hotbox in the new whip with a new b*tch
I don’t even know her name, yah
Run up on me, that’s okay
Got a AK on me, it’s at your brain, yah
I put my di*k in your main, yah
I just may go snatchin’ chains, yah
[?]