I can’t do no North Face unless Supreme on the coat
Thousand dollar double cup, I spilled some lean on the floor
I might pop out Mike Amiris off Celine on the ho
Unky in it knee deep, can tell a fiend by his nose
Backdoor season, you won’t hear me creeping out the door
Heard that one sh#t back going, finna buy some pros
Looking like I’m playing Minecraft, all these diamonds on
Blowing Cookie from the middle shelf, oh, you kind of blow
On Middlebelt with some pings tryna find a store
High as hell without no shoes on, I tried to tie my toes
Huh, nah, I’m playing
Plug talking ’bout, “Come back tomorrow,” nah, I’m staying
Hit your block with two chops, they gon’ have to caution tape it
Unky cooking in the kitchen, damn near tossed dog an apron
Since your mans a hellhound, we gon’ send dog to Satan
Palm Angels nine hundred, I am not jogging basic
The backpack full of fifties, but the pants off the Franklins
You ain’t no player, you a mascot
Eating lambchops with my gang from the sandbox
Two-five-eight, three-six-five, this sh#t can’t stop
Mister do the white buffs sipping on a black pop
Pop a V-cut and turn into a different monster
b#tch play with me, I’m pullin’ up and spittin’ on her
This a big chopper, it look like a missile launcher
2022, I know my cheese getting longer (No hat)
I only blow thrax
You broke, where the joke at?
Paid a whole rack for the coat on the coat rack
Heard you seen your opps and didn’t blow, you a ho, jack
Probably off a jugg device, you see my phone cracked
Finna hit the clerk with a punch like I’m Roman Reigns
You said that you the plug, what you sold today?
Little brodie bad as hell, can barely even hold the K
sh#t f#cked up, but it’s life, I can’t show the pain
I can pearl a ‘Wood in thirty seconds, f#ck a rolling tray
Dropped a check in a ham Chase and now they owe the bank
ShittyBoyz galactic, f#ck around and do a show in space
I’m high as hell, I need a drink like, hold up, wait
I ain’t even done yet, I gotta execute the beat
If I middleman the ‘bows, I need an extra two a piece
Opp slid down, sh#t, I think he left his Cuban link
Dog sh#t Militia, boss talk, we meet from two to three, huh
Said you up a hundred, put the Bible on it
Ridin’ in them Strikers, ain’t a plate or a title on me
Brodie Elmer Fudding, walking ’round with a rifle on him
Multicolor Helmet Lang on, looking tribal on it
See you upped some money, it look counterfeit
f#ck a three man deep, lil’ boy, we ’bout to blitz
3 AM, I’m just snoozin’ off in here, countin’ strips
How the f#ck is you a scam vet? You never found a glitch
Walk ’em down, walk ’em down, I’m hopping out the ‘Cat
Blew a twenty ball up at Saks, I don’t know how to act (f#ck)
You a motherf#ckin’ fool you think we ’bout to scrap
Got some lil’ pape’, you finna blow it or you ’bout to stack?
Find more lyrics at westlyrics.com
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