We don´t jump clique to clique, Hit-Boy but I ain´t like you kids
They know what it is, peel off Lambo tires skid Doin´ the most, imagine you and me close I´m too ahead, all of that homie shit dead Niggas can´t call me their friends Or call me their mans or call me their woadies Forty below, my heart is still cold, I got it in Corsa, revvin´ the motor I´m gettin´ change, they wanna see me slip through the crack Shorty is into me, she let me crash, two-person party, we havin´ a bash
What you think all this Julio for? She told me, "Go lock up the studio doors" She actin´ up like it´s the movie awards, for real, for real, for real You gotta love a discreet freak, that´s for real, for real, for real
Nigga, it´s twenty on my receipts, that´s for real, for real, for real I just left out H Lorenzo in Maxfield Tool on me, we still can´t build I be solo on the real, smokin´ personals of kill I kept it 1K, that´s how I´ma stay She wearin´ Saint but she not a saint All ten down, that´s how I was raised for all of my days
We don´t jump clique to clique, Hit-Boy but I ain´t like you kids They know what it is, peel off Lambo tires skid Doin´ the most, imagine you and me close I´m too ahead, all of that homie shit dead Niggas can´t call me their friends Or call me their mans or call me their woadies
Forty below, my heart is still cold, I got it in Corsa, revvin´ the motor I´m gettin´ change, they wanna see me slip through the crack Shorty is into me, she let me crash (Yeah) two-person party, we havin´ a bash
Don´t jump clique to clique, most these guys is counterfeit I´m in the hood without a stick, you never know, might see some shit She love me ´cause I don´t cum quick, I´m local but still out the mix This stripper bitch live by the Ritz, talkin´ slick gon´ get you hit I´m hood rich but I never trick, she fine but still I won´t commit
Spoiled hoes throwin´ fits, want a nigga that pay their rent I ain´t like these rappers, all these trappers hustlin´ backwards All talk facts, bruh, all you after is the fame and the pussy, that shit wack to us Uh, I put that on my cousin I been thuggin´, two tires cost like sixteen hundred My nigga died, I´m drivin´ home, I´m sick to my stomach But self-pity won´t cut it, I tell ´em, "Up the budget" Now niggas wanna own their masters, y´all actors I´m a factor, roll like tractors, playin´ Ginuwine… the Bachelor If I want it, I could have her, and my Amex say I´m platinum
At the car wash with a bad one, take a pic with me then tag ´em
Niggas can´t call me their friends Or call me their mans or call me their woadies 40 below, my heart is still cold, I got it in sport, I´m revvin´ the motor I´m gettin´ change, they want me to me slip through the crack Baby is into me, she let me crash, two-person party, we havin´ a bash
We don´t jump clique to clique, Hit-Boy but I ain´t like you kids They know what it is, peel off Lambo tires skid Doin´ the most, imagine you and me close
I´m too ahead (I´m too ahead) all of that homie shit dead (Yeah)