Woah, woah

Woah, woah

Yeah, yeah

Yeah, yeah

Uh, huh, huh

Uh, huh, huh

Uh, huh, huh, huh, huh

I'm drippin' from head to toe, rockin' Gucci

I like my girls bad and boujee

I hit my dance, do the Uzi

Karate whip, call it Bruce Lee

Feelin' like Gunna, man, it's too easy

You is my son, know you wanna be me

Mama, that's your baby boy on your TV

All black whip, no, you can't see me

(Yeah, yeah, yeah)

Pull up and pop out

You don't get money, don't know what you talkin' 'bout

He is a lame, I think he finna opt out

All black truck, they be scared when I hop out

Say they want smoke, then we gave 'em a hotbox

I got my money flippin', playin' hopscotch

You cappin', you not hot

Coppers can't catch me, I do a hundred on the freeway on my B-day

And I keep a stick by my side, yeah, that's a key play, ain't no she say

Oh, I heard you not gettin' money and you a cheapskate with your cheap weight

When I get on the stage, they screamin' my name

Tryna run it back, where the DJ?

I want a hundred bands

Chop make 'em do the running man

Boo, telling you, I ain't runnin' in

I'm skrrtin' off in that Cullinan

Money blue, Jim Sullivan

Red hair like Republican

Racks sittin' in the double M

I get that bag that you fumblin'

I'm drippin' from head to toe, rockin' Gucci

I like my girls bad and boujee

I hit my dance, do the Uzi

Karate whip, call it Bruce Lee

Feelin' like Gunna, man, it's too easy

You is my son, know you wanna be me

Mama, that's your baby boy on your TV

All black whip, no, you can't see me (Zaytoven)

Yeah, I'm at the top, I don't care what is under me

Pockets so fat, swear they weighin' like a ton apiece

Black and yellow Lamb', swear it's lookin' like a bumblebee

If it ain't about the money, don't even talk to me

How they gon' hate on me, then still follow me?

Why your main chick in my DM tryna swallow me?

Money not gon' stop growin' 'til it's tall as me

If he talk down, I'ma hit him like it's archery (Woah, woah, uh, woah, woah)

We makin' money and you makin' nada

That boy a goofy, we laughin' like, "Haha"

Shoutout to tana, I'm flexin' that Prada

Hittin' on this girl, had to tell her, "Bye-bye"

I got 'em still wonderin' how I do it

How you got a gun and you not gon' shoot it?

(Yeah, yeah, yeah)

Pull up and pop out

You don't get money, don't know what you talkin' 'bout

He is a lame, I think he finna opt out

All black truck, they be scared when I hop out

Say they want smoke, then we gave 'em a hotbox

I got my money flippin', playin' hopscotch

You cappin', you not hot

Coppers—