作词 : Juke Wong/Dominique Jones/Jeffery Williams/Nayvadius Wilburn/Wesley Glass

作曲 : Juke Wong/Dominique Jones/Jeffery Williams/Nayvadius Wilburn/Wesley Glass

Four stones in the ear, D's at the bottom

GA certified before I was GIA certified

Mr. M-In-Cash anytime you see me, you know?

Only a few rappers play a duck to catch a duck, you know?

Trickin’ niggas who trickin' niggas, you know?

Supercar-drivin', Gulf Stream-flyin’, designer-wearin' golden child, you know?

Wham (Wheezy outta here)

Let's go

Hoppin' off a plane to a Matchbox

Hundred times platinum, **** a plaque

Bulletproof the tires, run flat (I'm goin')

Cutthroat, I give her one chance (Go 'head)

Slut her out and gave her one band (No problem)

Twenty-five cars, one man (I pop 'em)

Driveway like a mini dealership (Come park it)

He went sour, cut the business with him (You bold)

Crack smoker, I was livin’ with ’em (Auntie 'nem)

Weird hoes, I ain’t dealin' with 'em (Can't see me)

Overseas, they love a real nigga (European)

She don’t like it, but she deal with it (She stingy)

'Raris back-to-back, that's tough (Two million)

Hear us 'round the corner, that's us (Skrrt)

Puttin' on stuff, best dressed (Night time)

Flip phone, black Nike Tech (My kind)

We done done it all, what's next? (Too picky)

Boss Man, name on the checks (Big business)

First one's come through trim (Literally)

Dipset, Jim Jones baller (Big bucker)

Life of a ****in' hustlerholic (I'm hustlin')

She know not to test me, I'ma call her (Hush)

Bro in prison, livin' through a pack (And)

Farewell, I don't see a scratch (Look close)

She ain't mine if she don't got me tatted (No way)

OCD, need everything intact (Clean up)

Bitches tryna play me like I'm wack (Bitch, who?)

Real P, I bet' not go for that

Ridin' through the trey in all black

Pullin' up on Pluto in the 6 (Bird gang)

Hood full of dope-slanging tricksters (My neighbors)

I come from that 4, I'm a real one (I came up)

[Interlude: Young Thug]

Yeah, nigga, King Spider back

I don't even believe I was locked up, for real, for real

I was havin' my way the whole time, fool, you know what I'm sayin'? (Yeah)

[Verse 2: Young Thug]

Two Lamb' coupes, four Lamb' trucks

Pullin' up, what the ****? (What the ****?)

Neck, wrist, fingers slush (Eee)

Order hundred G's, that's us (Hee)

New Rolls Cullinan truck (Skrrt)

Dog on the side like a bus (Yeah)

Shawty mad, ain't goin' back and forth (Uh)

Never heard a rich nigga fuss (No)

Heard these niggas going out sad

'Rari truck came with a bag

Only ****in' overseas shit

These U.S. bitches kinda bad

College bitch, I made her leave a frat

****ed my brother, gave the bitch a pass

Trappin' in the studio, I'm glad

Break a bale, the junkie get the trash (Hee)

I was taught to pay a bitch to leave (Yeah)

I go Birk', Chanel for the fleece (Birks)

Four 'em at a time like a sheikh (Four)

I been on a boat, screamin', "Ski" (Ski)

Saint Laurent, they bring it to the beach (Beach)

She was Portuguese and Middle East (Woo)

She snorted off the ki' (Snotty)

Got her screamin' R.I.P. to Keed (R.I.P. to Keed)

Niggas can't stand us (Uh-huh)

Doggy, put your mans up (Okay)

Walked her down in Lanvins (Yeah)

Pocket full of grandparents (Okay)

Old school, the Trans Am one (Skrrt)

Cullinan, the ambulance one (Skrrt)

You good, your mans can't come (Yeah)

I don't give a **** 'bout nothin'

[Interlude: Future]

Yeah

Brr, brr, ski

Ayy, say gang

[Verse 3: Future]

Pour it on thick like syrup

Elevator pad at the crib

Shopping bags all on the floor

Never seen me twice with a ho

Backyard vibes by the ocean

Driveway look like a car show

Three hundred-fifty million, I'm the G.O.A.T.

Custom leather Pucci on the door

Fifty birds of dog on my wrist

Cocaine jumpin' off my bitch

Thirty-two shots with the glitch

Talkin' Vicks, then we talkin' Chris

Micro mini with a beam

Puttin' the side hoes in Celine

Geekin' off the millions like a bean

Push a button and make your mama grieve

Eat it up, she workin' for a boss

Out the country, livin' like a boss

Princess-cut and showin' all the flaws

Graduated, cookin' up the raw

Pushin' skateboard, Tony Hawk

Crankin' up the car when I talk

Alligator, Hermès stuff

Dropped eight dollars on a truck

Codeine bottles, they for us

Put them legal sticks on the bus

Off tour, straight to the pit

Three bad bitches gettin' hit

Solitaires made they eyes squint

Smell the dirty money through the vents

House full of dead presidents

Wham

Spider

Ayy, say gang