On Roc grave, on Cap head, So, foe
You be tweakin´, foe, you know what to do with this  though, Roc grave
Keep that though, foe, keep that so they know, on folks ´nem

Twenty pounds of gross in the trunk, I know you smell it on me (Woo, woo)
Ain´t no crossin´ Sosa, bitch, you know what happened to Tony (Woo, woo, woo)
Before I let a bitch play me, I´d rather play with Sony (Woo, woo)
I´m a Southside-ass nigga, catch me ridin´ down Stony (Woo, woo)

I just, I just, I just, I just
I just, I just, I just, I just
I just, I just, I just, I just
I just, I just, I just
I just blew the top off it (Woo), hot dog on it (Woo)

White Rolls boys, does it look like God, don´t it? (Woo, woo)
Porsche 918 (Woo), frog eyes on it (Woo)
Pay all cash, put my son life on it (Woo, woo)
Ran into a lick (Woo), put the squad on it (Woo)
I can get you gone with just one nod, homie (Woo, woo)
Shit been gettin´ fishy (Woo), fishin´ rod on me (Woo)
Bitch brought her friends and I put the squad on it (Woo, woo)
This ain´t your regular truck (Woo), it´s a mod on it (Woo)
Wide-body kit look like a dad bod on it (Woo, woo)
They like, "Chief So, your cup cost a BBL, don´t it?" (Woo, woo)
Jewelry in the treasure box (Woo), call me Dragon Tales, homie (Woo)

That USPS, still check (Woo), I got mail, don´t it? (Woo)
This money brand new, it got the smell on it (Woo, woo)
She told him she ain´t hop on my dick (Woo), she fell on it (Woo)
Had to leave by eleven, this bitch act like 12, homie (Woo, woo)

I´m in that wide-body Rolls, me and Dank in it (Ayy)
We ain´t got no plates, but this bitch got a Drac´ in it (We gone)
We can smell a murder soon as we see that face, spin it
We got bond money, but we smokin´ stank tinted (Skrrt)

All the opps know, got a hundred rings, we winnin´ (What up?)
Call up Chief So, whenever he say it, we´ll hit him
Pull up in that Lam´, me and Lil Lam, it ain´t rented
I can send a M in minute, just a signature
Pointin´ right at him, it´s him, four-nick, we gon´ sentence him
Married to that block, we divorce him, we gon´ finish him
Heat right on his top, we gon´ scorch and spin back, watch him drench
Trained so many shooters, run up twenty sittin´ back on the bench (Ayy, ayy)
If it´s really beef, we don´t tweet, we don´t send ´em hints
If it´s really smoke, we gon´ blow, we gon´ spin again

Bro went up the score and I ain´t know, I know that´s my twin
Put you in that trash can when we spin the bend (Ayy, ayy)