Oh, I think she like me, ain't paper don't excite me
Put a nigga head, in that sight, he tryn fight me
Ain't bout that motherf*ckin' paper, nigga, don't invite me
Tryna make ten Ms before thirty, looking likely
Put them bets on myself, I ain't with the rat race
Head down, eyes on the prize, million cash race
Mama taught me how to count them bands up at a fast pace
Bitch, I always been the one, know I can't come in last place
(I been), I been on that E-Way, town-to-town servin
Light bands on some LV, cause my bitch deserve it
Get a nigga knocked off, don't even be worth it
Know that we gon' be good, that shit is for certain
I been goin' too hard, only goin' harder
No such thing as too far, I need all the guala
These niggas some small fries, treat em' like a toddler
Way that they be surfin', thought I was they father
Number one, ain't no race,
Off a pack, then I skate
Back to trap, count up pape,
I was starving, Made my plate
Pick up bows, other states
She hit my line, she tryna link, I said you gotta wait
I been runnin' up them bands, ain't got no time for dates
Since the last time they seen me on the gram, I doubled it
Make this shit look easy, but we really came from struggle, yeah
Roast like thirty-two with that torch, watch it bubble, yeah
Flame it with that blowtorch, get the pot workin
Faded off that strong shit, in the drop swervin
Whip full of baddies, in the back twerkin'
If we see them blue lights, Brodie get to chirpin