Jumpman, Jumpman, Jumpman, them boys up to something Jumpman, Jumpman, Jumpman They just spent like two or three weeks out the country Them boys up to something they just not just bluffing Taliban, Taliban You don't have to call I hit my dance like Usher

From Black Diamond Bay On Black Diamond Bay Up on the white veranda She wears a necktie and a Panama hat Her passport shows a face From another time and place She looks nothing like that And all the remnants of her recent past Are scattered in the wild

Outside, cocaine white, body look like Gentiles (Gentiles) Emotional, 'motional, 'motional, 'motional Why you emotional? Why you emotional? Ah, bitch, you emotional, yeah Big shot, hol' up, wait, peanut butter insides (no) Big shot, big shot, (hol' on,

Murda on the beat with the murder man Ben Simmons shake 'em with the left hand Steppin' on his dope like a step dad Too turnt up, can't help that Shittin' on a hater no Ex-Lax Watch so dumb it got kept back Bitch so thick, she can't help that 'Cause she

Yes I understand I done came a long way From huggin them corners to appearin on TV From choppin up nicks, like this here feeds me To makin 'em hits, like this shit's easy But it's not, it's a whole lot of bullshit involved And truthfully, I'd rather be

Brad Pitt, that's my cousin When you see me in the club Angelina show me love You got me fucked up Like you don't know what's up All my Angelinas if you got it let me see it Brad, Brad, Pitt Slick shit man that's all we do hoe That little homie let me

DTP we got them guns that go Yea I'm all about that pistol player, cold blooded killer Niggaz recognize my name, I dub the young dealer You better tell ya man that with the gauges I'm nice Ill shoot up y'all white shirts until y'all look like dikes But

Te di banda y te solté, yo te solté Pa'l carajo te mandé, yo te mandé Ella pidió a Yandel (Yeah, this is the Remix) Fifty hundred threads in my linen sheets Look like you missing waking up next to me Staying relevant, stay on this shit I'm focused on

Pull up in a Demon, on God (On God) Lookin' like I still do fraud (Fraud) Flyin' private jet with the rod (Rod) This that Z shit, this that Z shit (This that Z shit) Uh-huh, ha, oh-ah-oh Ice water, turned Atlantic (Freeze) Nightcrawlin' in a Phantom

Who shot me, but ya punks didn't finish Now ya bout to feel the wrath of a menace Come on, come on (take money) Grab ya glocks, when you see Tupac Nigga, we hit em' up I think y'all gonna like this next song When this song drops, I want all the West