We in Lil Cali and Pakistan Ralo tell them where we at (yeah) I had to earn my stripes Cook Cook that shit shit up Quay Quay (yeah, yeah) Four pockets (whoo) Baby, yeah, uh, yeah Four pockets on full My trunk and my hood

Quarter million dollars all on my skin Tote this F&N like I got license Fuck stop signs and red lights, I don't do no stoppin' Jump off the tightrope, I'm tryna dive in Yeah, cook cook that shit shit up Quay Quay Ain't been in the studio for like three or four weeks

Outta proportion, outta proportion My choppa keep blowin' shit outta proportion Cook Cook that shit shit up Quay Quay It's Gucci (Evil) Hah (Genius) Fast coupe, haha (Nyoom) (Mr. Nice Guy, haha) If you ain't 'bout lettin' that choppa go, we ain't got none in common (No)