You know what, PINKBLXXD
When I see you, I'ma whoop yo' ass, b***h
I'm sick of you talkin' shi-
Poppin' molly, I'm on X
Blicked up with K, when I catch him, stomp his face (oh, what a thrill)
Runnin' down your hood with the mace, cast a fuckin' spell, leave that boy stuck in the mix
Fuck the feds had to put 'em in the race
I'm poppin' Percocets, hopin' that them bitches laced
Rick Owens my feet, I stomp your teeth, how that s**t taste?
Rick Owens my feet, I stomp your teeth, how that s**t taste?
Ahh, ah-ah, I put mud up in that syrup
I'ma hit his fuckin' face
Hollow tips hit his face, now it's blood all on my shirt
I was tryna hit his b***h but now she gettin' merked
Yesterday she gettin' merked (merked)
Whip up on that ho ass nigga, we gon' fuckin' lurk
You not 'bout no fuckin' shit, my nigga, pull up, we gon' work
I'm that nigga, and I got his blood up on my shirt
Yeah, we run up with that bag, we on go
We gon' cook some s**t up, nigga, we gon' sell all this blow
Little boy's tryna run away, pay me what you owe (what you owe)
F- nigga, he get sent down below
We gon' run up in the crowd like a fuckin' mosh pit
Nigga get out of my DM's, n***a, I don't owe you s**t
You can see that fuckin' glow, yeah, that s**t is on my wrist
Yeah, she give me fuckin' top, I don't wanna give a kiss
Niggas steady on my dick, n***a get up off my sack
They be fiendin' for some candy like a fuckin' flapjack
Niggas worried 'bout me, they not focused on they bag
Niggas dissin' dead niggas, they don't know shit, it's sad
Niggas flexin' they drug use, flexin' fuckin' shrooms
Niggas be that bold, they just stay up in they room
Niggas got an ego, they ain't even make it, they a fool
I could give less of a fuck, nigga, I'm just cool
Poppin' molly, I'm on X
Blicked up with K, when I catch him, stomp his face (oh, what a thrill)
Runnin' down your hood with the mace, cast a fuckin' spell, leave that boy stuck in the mix
The feds had to put 'em in the race
I'm poppin' Percocets, hopin' that them bitches laced
Rick Owens my feet, I stomp your teeth, how that s**t taste?
Rick Owens my feet, I stomp your teeth, how that s**t taste?
You're fortunate your arm's broken
If not for that, you wouldn't be getting off so easily
