Lyrics:

Ok, see these hoes, I’m bout sick them

Last week I had 3 threesomes, a sixsome

I gutta bitch with a big gun, and another hoe that strip some

Another hoe to smoke all my kush and another hoe to sip some

That last hoe, a fat hoe, my fault, Did i forget one

I forget all they name, hit them, dismiss them

Your boyfriend buy red bottoms, well that makes one of us

6 months in, no spins, I’m a hunned up

My goonies tryina cash out, I tell them run it all

Brought me all they jewelry, and I’m buying it, I don’t give a fuck

The young nigga with them dreads and them tats, got that dirty strap

I just signed a nigga that don’t rap, but he be the murder rap

Last time I checked, I was shake life

I can’t even sleep when I got lean in my sprite

Mixing, mixing all these drugs, one hell of a flight

Pop a perkculator try to fuck all night

31 flavors, 31 racks, pull up with that sack, prolly walk back

Come above that, yeah we need all that

Niggas fucked up, tryina crawl back

Ah, niggas fucked up, tryina crawl back

Ah, niggas fucked up, tryina crawl back



Murking, serving, lurking, taken we some motherfucker terrorists

Yeah we some motherfucking terrorists

And you’s a motherfucker scary bitch

I got this Big heat right beside my Burberry belt .and I hide it with my earring

Would beat your ass but I spare you the embarrassment

Swerving of whatever yeah whenever fuck whoever get heat

My heater always on me and don’t pay nobody to carry shit

Took my own charge of self at once and I love it for

Fresh on papers nothing pending, still paying a couple lawyer

Self made, quarter millionaire, working on a hunned more

Most my niggas still got that work, although they unemployed

Grind hard motherfucker, police say you sucker

Niggas outside shooting at your rims like the rubber

Busting through your windshield, call in play (backboard)

Then flea the scene (haul ass)..i rock the streets with a 35 and a 45

Small smoke sit in the strap cause I’m terrified

Loose lips sink a sturdy ship every time

We hit licks, blue checks like we verified

Hah, you on your Twitter and you’re feelings where your bitch ain’t got no walls

Like my whip ain’t got no ceilings

Uh, nasty, that motherfucker killing pill,

Off like an orange, on them orange correy dealings

Still got a boost phone and a booster

Got a couple new tones and some shooters

You don’t wanna know how bad I do you

The shit’s disturbing and I don’t even know LUDA

Yo lil bitch call me raul the ruler

I told her pipe down, you gone wake the neighbors

She always skype me chill why dont you do yourself a neighbor

Last time I counted it man I have my 50 leaven haters

Never be a celebrity though I’m celebrating

And I’m getting checks like I’m hella famous

Under the influence and investigation

Underrated, but can’t tell based on my bank statement, wait up, wait up

My people keep telling me to move out of town

I would if I could now but what I’ma do with all these pounds.





Thanks to Thadawg931 for correcting these lyrics