(Young Rich Squad)
You could hear my chains in the mic
When I was eighteen got my first check from rap
Gave it right to my mama
Don't talk to police, we don't want no drama
Separate police from we, I love commas
Bitch, I'm from where they pick death for designer
Shot him right out of his Yves Saint Laurent
But he was just chilling at home, young recliner
Watch me laugh to the bank it's hilarious
Put the world on my back I'ma carry this
F*ck a new asian bitch she Aquarius
Got them racks underground bitch I buried it
Rest in peace Benjamin, bitch I'm very rich
Three niggas, six guns, this scary shit
Matter fact Audi red like cherrys is
When I was eighteen got my first check from rap
Gave it right to my mama
Don't talk to police, we don't want no drama
Separate police from ne, I love commas
Niggas be hating I don't give a f*ck though
I seen ya hoe but I heard she a slut though
Whoa
When I walk out the bank I be counting my cash
You see a young nigga just know I be splashing
My diamonds water same color my Aston
Yo, yo
I'm smoking purp' with them pumps in my mansion
I'm off a Perc so I hope I don't crash it
Okay
Not talking cash, nigga, no way
I don't wanna talk if it's not about cash
You swear you want problems go worry 'bout a bag
This Dior from Paris might fly out to France
You play too much pussy go play with them bands
The world almost over so start the armada
It's snowing in Cali of course I wore Prada
Feds try to catch me I ain't saying nada, zip
If shit get crazy I shout out my shotta
Yo
Yo
I just skirt off the lot in a new Bentley truck with the tints
F*ck you thought I threw rims on 'em
I be worried 'bout a bag not a bitch if you think I'ma slip
I got chops with the things on 'em
My clip banana go ape
All my shooters some killers with Bape
We just shut up his block with the tape on it
She gon' f*ck with the team just to taste on us, yeah
When I was eighteen got my first check from rap
Gave it right to my mama
Don't talk to police, we don't want no drama
Separate police from we, I love commas
Bitch I'm from where they pick death for designer
Shot him right out of his Yves Saint Laurent, bruh
When I was eighteen
Told my mama we'll never be hungry again
We ain't been hungry since then
It's snowing in Cali now
Yeah, I brought the snow out to Cali now