Out on Bond lyrics

[Intro]
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah (Oh)
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

[Verse]
b*tch, I'm not talkin' 'bout iPhone when I just said I made an air drop (Damn, damn, damn)
V-VVS fit with them teardrops (Damn, damn)
f*ckin' your ho and I'm makin' her bed rock (Damn)
I read the money, f*ck a bookshop
I'm makin' edibles in a crockpot
Dolce Gabbana my flip-flops
Whippin' that pot, n*gga, 'til my wrist lock
Got long hair, I don't got a flat top
Love totin' guns 'cause my brother chop
I do not f*ck with 911, I do not see myself being a cop
I only see myself at the top
I just see f*ck n*ggas being opps
I'm a young n*gga, Sir Flex-a-Lot
When in the f*ck the beat gon' drop? (Woo)
Where my bros with a thot?
Flex music, no, this not hip-hop
Hit him with a SIG, n*gga, and he hip and he hop
Uppin' my pistol whеn I'm finna hop
Can't trust the plug, n*gga, I got set up
I'm goin' through it, you said, "Keep your head up"
Not 'bout thеse b*tches, man, I'm 'bout the cheddar
You know you a b*tch, you a rumor spreader
I swear to God I do it better
Two rap b*tches, yeah, Salt-N-Pepa
I spent a thousand dollars on a sweater
Just to wear that sh*t in any weather
Slow, I swear that all of these b*tches be slow
Right at the store, right at the Citgo
And I'm in jail, but I don't need stove
'Cause I'm finna bond out, finna go, go, go