I got ten black cars, at the venue
I don´t rap politic, tell me what you into
I don´t rap politic, tell me what you into
I don´t rap politic, tell me what you into

A hustler going corporate (For real)
Preparation prevent poor performance
Pray my karma, it don´t come back on my daughters
Ho say she lit up from them cribs, just bring some water
Labels sending deals, but I keep turning down they offers
It ain´t bout the money; can´t put that in my coffin
I got the clerk confused, I´m buying cups, no coffee
I´m the chosen one, frozen up
I did Hutch and Golden Sun
Got my coins up, like Temple Run
Must not know ´bout Yode run
Must not know ´bout Randy´s son
Wavy boy, the one who ran it up
Ain´t signing shit, ´til they put my family up (For real)

I won´t crack a smile until I´m puttin´ Grammy´s up
You just touched your first hunnid? That´s goin´ bad to us
You a friend of me, or enemy?
Don´t waste your time try adding me
Want these kicks, gotta wait a week
Custom Goyard baggage me
Sorry, but I´m fuckin´ fans, bad bitches keep taggin´ me
Old niggas, they´re sending threats to me ´cause they ain´t next to me
Bitch niggas, they think I owe them something but ain´t invest in me
They keep on talking twenty K, decline respectfully
Call my phone back-to-back, them Bamas got a check for me

You can tell I never had shit, I´m driving recklessly

I got ten black cars, at the venue
I don´t rap politic, tell me what you into
I don´t rap politic, tell me what you into
I don´t rap politic, tell me what you into

From in these streets, to industry
Can´t let codeine finish me
Don´t let old friends that I cut off tell you that we´re enemies
All these hoes backstage tryna fuck, must think it´s ten of me
Diamonds flashing, boxes gettin´ wrapped up; I´m a Christmas tree
Rule number one, It ain´t no postin´, and ain´t no kissin´ me

Rule number two, don´t tell my business, that´s gon´ get you cut
Gotta watch my back, I sent the driver just to pick her up
Y´all know I´m a tipper, paid a thousand, just to get the cut
I just damn near set the club on fire, bottles lit it up
This shit ain´t for you, if you fall off and you can´t get back up (Yeah)
Lately, I ain´t gotta say too much, to get your bitch to fuck
Brodie I got flavors, for occasions, ´Face, we kitted up (Yeah)
Thirty-somethin´ racks later, OD camp done did it up
Money low? Then get it up
Need a load? Come get with us

Hoes choose to swap it with my brodie, that ain´t shit to us
I´m in London, say she like my accent, got the sprinter stuck
Eating beans, keepin´ lean with me
Say she never seen fifty
My rich homeboy say how much to bring with him
I love that bitch, man, I can´t lie, but never seen with her
Got my jeans stuffed, this shit too much
Gon´ bust the seams in it

I got ten black cars, at the venue
I don´t rap politic, tell me what you into
I don´t rap politic, tell me what you into
I don´t rap politic, tell me what you into