[ Featuring MTG Ghost ]
Six jacks goin' at one time, I can barely think
All these problems on a nigga mind, I can barely think
Six jacks goin' at one time, I can barely eat
All these problems goin' on my mind, I can
Barely think
Got some bad bitches blowin' down my line, them yo favorite freaks
And you can get them bitches $1,050 if you
Come through me
Tearing down the streets, I don't usually sell bows
Cuz gotta hunnit in, f*ck the mail, you can't
Smell those
Heard you niggas all in boutiques, lookin'
For them rare clothes
Bout to put Balenci on my feet, I don't do
No shell-toes
Trappin' all this C, tryna get double C, I done said too much
Say you staying down for 30 days, but ain't showed enough
All in my bag, but I don't feel like I growed enough
F*cking up the re-up, hit them J's and I doubled up
Baby said she want a real nigga, her last nigga wasn't real enough
Need a real bitch on my side, baby girl, cuz I'm healin' up
Sipping on this Wock, Wock, Wocky Flocka, I ain't did enough
Got my head down, lil nigga, I ain't givin' up
I can hit yo block, pass it out, now they feelin' us
Lil nigga barely makin' plays, I done sold the dust
OG's all up in our circle, they done molded us
Fisher Price, bag ass nigga, you ain't old enough
Ain't no pullin' up on 100 Round Gang, we got blicks here
How the f*ck them niggas dumping bows and makin' brick fare?
You tellin' me this shit ain't bout no pape, then why would I care?
I'll neva tell a Detect shit, I'd rather get the chair
I was leaning on the Wocky, it was like the only thing that cared
Came home ran up a bag, now the hoes want me to hit em bare
I ain't neva ducked smoke in my life, I put it in the air
I wouldn't sip my cup if I was you, dawg, it's a 4 in there
Put a button on every Glock around, we ain't playin' fair
Why when I get on my gangsta shit, these niggas get scared?
Baby don't know what to do with me, I'm just to player
I just mixed the purp, wit the yellow, like I'm a f*ckin Laker
Hit the road with the load, nigga, I'm a real risk taker
I swear if I can get the yola back, Ghost a gram maker
I'm in the kitchen cookin' grits, but I ain't talkin' Quaker
Bill picked the blender up, and he started to shake er'
I know shit was rough for you, but baby, I make magic happen
Dumpin' bows, servin' attics, all the work, got acrobatics
Zotti bows in full effect, you know the city gotta have it
If I do right on this run, I'll have enough for a Patek
