Ayy, man, that choppa having acne, a bump on my stock (Ayy, let that shit ride, Tav)
And that Glock, that ho bipolar, a switch on my
Uh, mm, mm, mm, a switch on my
I just be on that

Ayy, say, that chop´, that ho got acne, a bump on my stock
And that glizzy thing bipolar, a switch on my Glock
Ayy, .40 walking with it stuffed, can´t pull out my knot
Time and money, you don´t know it, all of my watch
Ayy, all up that wrist, I got dog shit
I know niggas hatin´, I´m in the mall with it
Please reach for my chain, I´ma get self defense
In N.Y. four, five days, posted up selling nicks
Ayy, posted up selling shit, nigga, I´ll sell a fit
She got a OnlyFans, bet, come here, I´ll sell a bitch
And if you want you somethin´, don´t come ´round talkin´ ´bout celibate

And lil´ bruh trap be doing good, throw him some extra shit
Send me some money and a addy, I´ll mail you this
My big brother, he be cooking, you might smell some shit
Can you smell the rock? It cooking
This a Dior jacket, normally Aeropostale hoodies
My last pay look like Ashton Kutcher
I´m having dog shit, sell you a master bully
So much motion, save yo´ Frenchie´s
Want you a twenty? Nigga, stop spending
Wanna learn how to cook? I know a chemist
Nigga, my dad and ´nem been with me, no, yap
Scrape gang, scrape the pot
Go make a stop, then hit up the block
Or grab some work and set up shop
These niggas bankroll going down like Jock
You can tell when a nigga lost, he start buying Jay

The nigga just was pouring Wock´, but now he sippin´ Quagen
Nobody told you about all them designer shoes anyway
Can´t buy designer drugs if you ain´t out here getting paid
Now you broke as fuck, tryna keep up with the fucking wave
Nigga, I can go designer or go D-boy, pop out hood baby
Dickie suit with the Nikes on, two fifty in the Styrofoam
Pull some shit out a shoebox, so grown, have a whole mind gone
Plain Rollie another time zone, this that, "Sir, yes, sir"
When you sippin´ real drank, sometimes your words get slurred

Carti´ got my vision blurred
Ballin´, step back shoot like Curry
Like that, bitch, hang up my jersey
Icy, bitch, my wrist McFlurry

Don´t ask me where I´m at and don´t text back, gon´ have me worried
Nigga pulled up and slowed down and I upped my .30
I ain´t see 12, they told me drop my gun and I jumped the curb
I ran they ass all way to Whalen, all right by 3rd
And on my kids, all this shit facts, I ain´t making no words
You seen Yay come through in that ´Cat, all making a serve
Probably on the next street, yo´ bitch wanna neck me

High top Ricks cost seventeen, these kicks high like Jet Lee