I wish a motherfucka' would Tell me that I ain't hip hop bitch you ain't hip hop Tell me that my shit gon' flop bitch your shit gon' flop I wish a motherfucker would, hell naw, I wish a motherfucker would Chill chill chill, let 'em rhyme man You know

Pull up in that Bentley GT Skrrt, skrrt, beep, beep I'ma go down eat, eat Ride them chi chis Know I'ma skeet, skeet (all in it) Got me on repeat, bitch wanna freak me Girl, I know you ain't from 'round here Shut up, shut up, make you cum easy Make you cum

Niggas tryna buy my style, but it ain't in the mall That shit look like a mall My bitch act so boujee, now she don't even like the mall My closet designer down, that shit look like a mall (s'Gucci) My bitch act so boujee, now she don't even like the mall

Ain't that some shit Well paid for this rap and shit I got that work Say what? My flow Say what? My bitches Say what? You Cole Say what? I said

Ay, tell me what you gon' see looking back at yo' life Looking back at yo' life Who the fuck is that? Yeah, bitch, it's me, it's me So humble, I'm so humble Won't be worth for damn if you ain't living it right All we know is stripes, learned to die for

Lights low, get lit Mouth closed, take dick Lace up, legs up Get drunk, clothes off Weed loud, twist up Throwback, look back Woosah, get that I ain't worried about no other bitch you got me Use them lips you know I love you, kiss my body

I do what I like, I do, I do I left a nigga on read 'cause I felt like it Dress me down in that Raf, Saint Laurent jacket Dapper, dapper, I look fine and my checks divine No wonder, wonder why I do whatever I like I think us bad bitches is a gift from

Louis Vuitton, Jimmy Choo, that's on you (ha) New Chanel, Saint Laurent, Gucci bag (huh, ha) Diamonds on my neck, frozen tears (tears) Bad bitches gettin' wet, here Yeah, don't call me 'til the checks clear (clear) Iced out (stylist), no stylist

That's why I ain't got no time For these games and stupid tricks All these bitches on my dick That's how dudes be gettin' sick That's how dicks be gettin' drips Fallin' victims to this shit From these bitches on our dicks Fuckin' chickens with no ribs

Some of them supposed to go, some of them supposed to stay I ain't tryna ruin yours, I'm tryna make a way, yeah I be at the top, that's my favorite place That money gonna come, I don't gotta chase it Them bitches gonna come, I don't gotta chase em I'ma