I just gotta hit that b#tch one more time though
That b#tch was so crazy
Hokatiwi
Like, damn
Ayy
Ayy, ayy, ayy
Smile while I shoot the Glock, the anger really in the bullet
I was Bébé every time I came and got a whooping
See my teacher out like, sh#t, I made it, thought I couldn’t
Bust my first scam at fourteen, I was made for jugging
Middle school, was at the bus stop with a dumb knot
Blowing zas till my lungs stop or my blood clots
Heard that tick-tick, oh sh#t, you got that one watch?
Got that drip-drip, Balenciaga, these them one socks
Me and Stan touchdown, huh, Eli and Peyton
You can be Betty Crocker, b#tch, I ain’t got time for caking
Bro’ll do him foul with the Tech, that’s my type of flavor
Punched a hundred Apple Watches, still ain’t got the time for waiting
Worked sixty hours this week, how you got time for hating?
Talking ’bout the sauce? Okay, whole time he Plankton
This a motherf#cking headshot, it ain’t no time for Matrix
Hutch sent me to the ER, he got my sinus aching
You can get yo #ss beat or you can get yo #ss shot
Thousand for a jack box, ain’t never touched a crack rock
Bro got a big K, he ride around on caps lock
Unc’ the people’s champ in the pot, he make the trap rock
Juke 12 out, hit they #ss with a Shammgod
b#tch, leave me ‘lone, I ain’t tipping, where’s my lamb chops?
Walking with my brothers on the beach from the sandbox
Passed Stan the blicky, told him shoot it like his hand hot
Chasing down the mailman, running out my house shoes
I could up at least a fifty ball, that’s without blues
Throw a bow to my brother, that’s a Marc and Pau move
Eyes low as hell, the cookie hit me with a Yao move
If I call my Taliban, you gon’ hear the sound “boom”
Life so backwards, rainy days’ll be the droughts too
Talking ’bout later, like, nah, I need it now, boo
‘Wood loud as hell, happy that the booth is soundproof
Untouched than a b#tch, boy, I’m sick of death threats
I could be a dime short and wouldn’t need yo ten cents
AR got a muscle on that f#cker, I don’t bench press
Keep switching sides, f#ck around and get the ref stretched
Ride around with ‘Woods, we’ll flip him like a Tech Deck
I’ll put yo money on me if you ain’t bet yet
Only six people fit, oh, this a jet jet
Six hundred dollar thread, count a thousand dollar bed set
Fit five thousand like, b#tch, I’m just guesstimating
b#tch bougie, want that crab legs with the extra Cajun
At this point I’m starting to think that every b#tch was made ungrateful
First punishment I made ten, now I hate the cable
Whole year was off the punches, I ain’t made a payment
Pillow talking-ass, catch you out like, “She made me say it”
Yeah, I talk to God but, sh#t, man, I ain’t an angel
Upping dog sh#t, granny said, “That’s gon’ make ’em hate you”
Huh, like, sh#t, I’m finna make ’em hate me
I know how it feels being down so I make ’em pay me
Drop a fake check in BOA and do the bank so crazy
I done came Glocky and Kenzo so it’s hard to tame me
If I see the opps, I won’t stop shooting till the army chase me
Hustle DNA, ain’t got no feelings so it’s hard to break me
Five thousand dollar work the Nike if I slide the card at Macy’s
A hundred rounder with the red dots so I’m hardly aiming
Find more lyrics at westlyrics.com
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