Every time you see me, boy, I got that Kel-Tec tucked You don't even know how I got it on me Every time I'm fuckin' on lil' shawty, she remind me of that dope 'Cause that shit be like macaroni I ain't Milly but I'm rockin' in here They done let me bring

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

Sex with me, so amazing All this all work, no vacation Stay up off my Instagram with your temptation Hit a switch on a fake nigga like a station Vodka and water, and a lemon And a few other things I cannot mention Ooh nana nana five fingers on it Five

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

I'm dreaming of a white Christmas The sun is shining, the grass is green The orange and palm trees sway There's never been such a day In Beverly Hills, L.A. But it's December the twenty-fourth And I'm longing to be up north Just like the ones I used to

Swervin', hit them curbs on 'em, curbs on 'em, yeah In the coupe like a bird on 'em, bird on 'em, yeah Said my lil' baby swerve on 'em, swerve on 'em, yeah Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah And my lil' baby swerve on 'em, swerve on 'em, yeah She

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,

Greatest in the world, greatest in the world, greatest in the world (No lie) I might be I feel like the greatest joker to honkies sounding like me Never be as good, never be as good Packing up wife-beaters, white t-shirts, but what? I'm the greatest Best

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

Got around the same things Hope my mistakes don't make me less of a man 'Cause lately it feel like dem shits really can I'm prayin' I don't wake up all alone It's hard to say it so I write a song But that ain't equal to me rightin' wrong Stuck between a