[Verse 1]
Six fucking bands in my pocket
Pull up with the chopstick, and I say, "Fuck it"
You is not a rich, pussy boy, you is a faggot
Pull up to the block, maybe then we get to talking
I be making money like it just fucking walking
Talk on my name, and you'll slide in your coffin
We be shooting guns, yeah, we do this often
[Verse 2]
Tears running down from your face
Baby, wanna crash at my fucking place?
When I pop a perc, I feel like I’m in space
I ain't the one you gotta replace