Bitch.

You bitch.

Bling.

Oh, fuck.

Bling, bling.

That's not real.

Ay!

Ay!

Ay!

Ay!

Bitch, y'all ball like coke.

I don't fuck with Pope.

Please, y'all so great like dope.

Run to the money like Roshi.

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

You did.

Yeah.

Yeah.

Yeah.

You did.

Three car rings on my rope.

ball man pocket full of poke yeah your girlfriend with a blow phone don't cut for the

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.

How do you know?

I don't fuck with Pope, that's so green light, run to the money light road, shoot

You want a dick, bitch, hold it.

Riding on my shit like horse.

Drury, look so smooth.

And your money short just like Mort.

You the girl type on the low.

On the mad comic folk.

Me and Andrea, we went to Fantasia.

You came back to several.

You so sleep.

Y'all niggas ain't no shit.

Hit you as on that chick with your stick.

Nigga, for a friend of the lip, you want that spit.

Nigga, no mic, just give me my sneak.

Mayhem.

We'll be right back.

I am never letting up like tomato ketchup.

No, you need to fess up.

I want a Tesla.

I'm gonna get it.

Tesla numbers like professor, make her learn a lesson, then I never mess up.

Bitch, I bought like O.P.

I don't fuck with Pope, please.

Gas up, grill like Ochi.

Run to the money like Rowe.

Bitch, y'all ball like coke.

I don't fuck with Pope.

Please, got so great like yo.

Run to the money like road.