One time son you know we be the illest in this Push the shit back, QBC gat, plottin to move back The big mouth cat ship'll sink to the bottom Easily overthrowin niggas, rollin over niggas Yo I rose early mornin, spread my wings yawnin Vague memory of

I will not change for shit, I got my name from this Screamin' out gang gang gang gang gang I do this shit for the gang I didn't get in this for fame Nigga ain't takin' my chain I'ma stand firm with my name They say you get money, you change I got the

I still fuck 'em like I used too I need to put that shit on Youtube Cause you know we got that dancefloor crazy Single ladies come and have my baby Hey my nigga come and grab your lady Lemme see you twerk it, lemme see if you can twerk it 'Cause you know

But all the ho shit still so smelly Three-sixty-five, twenty-four seven Percocet got a nigga nose sweaty Belch wrong, get your throat slashed Nigga, broke ass, where's your cash? Nigga, Santa Claus with no bag Nigga, you a ho-ho-ho ass, nigga Nigga with

Niggas wanna talk what they gon' say (gon' say) I hit the pedal til that motherfucker break (til it break) Freaky bitches love the money I make And to live like this you motherfuckers gotta pay So let that shit burn Let that shit burn I'mma let that shit

'Cause its levels to this shit Lil nigga 'cause its levels to this shit Lil nigga we don't rock the same clothes, fuck the same hoes Lil nigga we don't drive the same whips, we don't fuck the same chicks Lil nigga we don't get the same paper, you a

All these haters See you later All that I could do But you don't even feel me though I know you know I know you got that power So CG but a nigga stay real Though I'm fly I'm ill I'm running shit

Get your hands up high, hands up high, hands up high Man I run this rap shit Rest in piece to Biggie Smalls R.I.P. to Tupac Nigga roll that good shit You wanna dance lets dance nigga I'll take you to da prom I'm armed tre pound in my palm I'm calm Nigga

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

Poppin' all this shit, need some tissue I can't trust a bitch 'cause I got issues Young rich nigga so official Next up, disrespectful, might offend you (woah) Bunch of bad broads on the menu Bunch of foreign cars when we bend through Next up,