I got the bag, tell a friend She got some ass, bring it in Bitch, I'm the news, CNN (yeah) I don't trust nobody 'cause I can't be fake Frontin' ain't an option 'cause my soul can't change It's that young nigga shit, I might pull up to your bitch like

What you doin'? Hold on let me turn down the music I can't hear you. Come on man, who's this? What you got on? Ha-ha, come on stop playin'. I ain't got on shit.

Don't wanna shoot the shit; I'm a shoot a bitch I don't fuck with you; you don't fuck with me (nah) Nigga, talkin' just ain't my cup of tea (yeah) Don't wanna talk to you Don't know you Don't know how you know my name I got a reputation of police chasing

When your wrist like this, you don't check the forecast Made a brick through a brick, I ain't whip up shit From the streets, but I got a little sense But I had to go coupe, no brain, coupe no brain I ain't worried 'bout you, I'ma do what I do And I do my

I, don't know what you take me for I, really don't play that shit I, ain't got to get you hit I get out myself and spray that shit Man I'm tired of tellin' niggas over and over I got a itchy-itchy trigger finger, nigga it's killin' me Not to spray this

I just keep on wishin' that the money made you stay You ain't never cared about that bullshit anyway You know I would throw it all away All this stuntin' couldn't satisfy my soul Got a hundred big faces, but I'm still alone Ayy, I would throw it all away

Outta proportion, outta proportion My choppa keep blowin' shit outta proportion Cook that shit up 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)

I've been on my shit, 'cause I'm hot now I ain't used to get it but I got it now You can't tell me shit, tell me nothin' Anything I want, I pull up in Two joints, that's double homicide Cop one for you and your friends Rolling papers two

Into the city where it all began You gotta move, you gotta move Ma, ma, ma, ma, ma, ma, ma, ma, ma Time you gotta move When you, you gonna move to the city? Aw, child, ain't it a pity? Sometimes it gets too shitty Come on and hit me You pack your bags

I pulled up in some shit that make yo bitch go crazy (skrt, skrt) I ain't gotta like her pics, she know a nigga wavy (hey, hey) Ice, water on my wrist that's why these niggas hate me (water, splash) Gotta keep a strap, can't let these niggas play me Ice,