I got this shit, yeah I got this shit
I love bitches and these two be f*cking spits
Follow what they say, follow what they say
Plenty of people asking about that f*cking lip
Pretend that it's not what you f*cking lip
Pull up to the interspace, shit, and my cheatin' whip
B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B
Ten, seventeen, I'm a friend
I stood around, all red
I pulled up, pause out
White hollow, bullet
I said to the bitches, I'm all scotch
You can't get a C from me, but bitch, you're f*cking taxed
Can't do what I get done, then I'm f*cking cataloged
And I love shooting on you
Put you on your lap
Put up
And I was out
Put up
Yeah, I was out
I got my shit
Yeah, I got my shit
Hella bitches in these soupy pockets
Fancy back to the 20s
Call the city
Call the city
I'm trying to make me go
Ask her about that f*cking lit
Her ex had an ex
Now we f*cking lit
She called the doctor
And it's bitch shit