You cross that line, boy and there ain't no comin' back I'm a crazy train, son, and you caught up in the tracks You've got me growlin' like a pit bull, brother I'm about to lock my jaws I'm a time bomb tickin' a real live wire Boy a shot in the dark, I'm

Gucci gang, Gucci gang, Gucci gang (Gucci gang!) Gucci gang, Gucci gang, Gucci gang, Gucci gang Spend ten racks on a new chain My bitch love do cocaine, ooh I fuck a bitch, I forgot her name I can't buy a bitch no wedding ring Rather go and buy Balmains

I got junkies at the door, I got junkies at the door Everywhere I fuckin' go I drop forty racks a show I could go flex on your hoe I be drippin' head to toe I be, I be drippin' head to toe Ooh, Big Head on the beat Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh

Did some numbers then I went and copped a Porsche I brought them bottles on bottles I fuck with models on models I'll take that bitch with molly I got the racks on racks Campaign, campaign, campaign, campaign, campaign Check out my campaign, campaign,

Chyah, chyah I got fast cars, bad bitches and designer clothes (chyah, chyah) Couple thousand on my wrist and my neck is on froze (Lil Pump) Spanish bitches butt naked and they twerkin' on the stove (chyah, chyah, chyah) Too much racks in my pocket that

I'm gonna dance on broken glass Ey, on broken glass And I'm gonna make that ceiling crash (uh) That ceiling crash So what? Still got knives in my back So what? So I'm tied to the tracks And here I go, here I go (Ooh, ooh, ooh) yeah here I go, here I go

15 racks, 20 racks, 30 racks, I got them bands Rocks with the ice on my shirt and them D&G pants Ice on my neck and no I didn't get no advance Bitch you know I'm tryna fuck and I don't wanna dance Now I can't go to the mall 'cause they know who I am I

Say fuck the drug test, go'n pass my gas mask Flat screen, I back back, I see my racks stacked I wanna live like a drug lord, but I wanna be glorious Sometimes I feel like a kingpin, I'm so victorious I got a white and a black girl, they look like an

We ain’t playin', got 100 racks (wit me, wit me, wit me, wit me) In the van got 100 gat (wit me, wit me, wit me, wit me) Streets (wit me, wit me, wit me, wit me) She's (wit me, wit me, wit me, wit me) Strong (wit me, wit me, wit me, wit me) Gas (wit me,

Runaway baby like a runaway train Runaway and never look back Like a train comin' off the tracks Well, I sold my guitar for a diamond ring Yeah the preacher's daughter's got a thing for me With all of our stuff in a pick up truck Yeah we're headed out