b#tch I walk up in this b#tch [?] place, uh, wait
I got the bread on me b#tch I ain’t talking bout muhf#ckin [?], wait wait
He said, he had a bag, but he didn’t pay, wait huh
Hop on the track and I’m running the beat and I’m switching the bass, uh, wait
“Round 2”
Walk in this b#tch and I’m kicking his face in
He gonna fall to the ground and stop breathing
He better go find a God to believe in, wait
You on the ground and you looking pathetic
I got them bullets and b#tch they kinetic
b#tch I’m the plug, come get connected
b#tch I’m hot, feel like fire
Breaking law, burning tires
Smoking pot, getting higher
Getting drugs like I’m retired
Kevin Gates I don’t get tired
Drift wait, burning tires
Doing damage, multipliers
Blade to the sun your amplifier
Donkey Kong, Diddy Kong, King Kong, what the Kong, f#ck em all
Got a white b#tch, ima f#ck her raw
Is it wrong, do I even care, she gonna suck my dong
Break ya jaw, catch a wig split with my f#cking Glock
Pew pew pew, got a piece shooter in my bag
Got a big strap in the back of the Jag
Coat that man rock a ghost when I’m mad
You my big shlatt, shoutout Sad, where ya at
Smoking Pall Malls in the back of the mall
Where my weed at, yeah I need that, ah
Dirty mouse spot and fire I bleed that, ah
I’m not tryna flex I’m tryna be that God
Find more lyrics at westlyrics.com
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