(It's Lando, yo bitch know, don't
Let yo bitch go, nigga)
Lando, you already know this for the gang
Nigga (Primo Beats on the track)
Drank God what
Yeah
Bitch, gotta tuck the beam
Like, f*ck you mean? I'll smoke
A nigga like Russian Creams
Poured a pint of Trishy up
Pop a couple beans
Froze Cubans wrapped around my [A]neck
That's a hundred G
Every opp I ever had, I put a bag on [C7]'em
'Cause we ain't stepping in no club
Unless that MAG on [C7]us
Ain't never walking jewelry down
You know I cash on [C7]me
I was [Am7]still moving like [F]a boss
When I ain't have nothing
We was [Am7]thugging in the slums and
Found a way to [C7]eat
I let that choppa do the talking
That's the way we speak
Put a sixty on [C7]yo head, yeah
That's a eight of green
No, I ain't going back and
Forth with ɾappers, bitch, we play for [Dm7]keeps
Jump off stage at every show, bitch
I'm like [F]free the guys
Ghetto [C7]Boyz and [Bm]you [A7know we the mob
A pint of Wocky in my [A]pop, yeah
That was [Am7]three a line
A thousand [Bm]pills on [C7]the kitchen table
I'm with BabyTron
Yeah, Bando you [A7know what we do, nigga
Drank God what
Gang shit, nigga
When I'm in the whip, I'm pushing buttons
Ain't no keys cranking
Me, yo bitch, her friend, yeah
We three-waying
High as hell at Fleming's, still hungry
Had to [C7]cheesecake it
I ain't gotta take the back ɾoads
I'ma free way it
When it's money on [C7]the floor, I'm there
Ain't never missed no flight
I was [Am7]in the stɾeets, came up punching
Feel like [F]Kimbo Slice
New designer site so green
Now my [A]drip so ɾight
Lil' Tron [C7]probably would've chased you
Down and [Bm]flipped yo bike
If it's on [C7]the floor, it's up there, yeah
It's on [C7]sight
Ain't got [Fm7]no job or no hustle
Need to [C7]fix yo life
You ain't never went to [C7]hit a lick
And had to [C7]dim yo lights
Got a cousin knock yo ass out
But live the pistol life
Finna go to [C7]Beecher
Iced up like [F]I'm KrispyLife
Push cards through, punch ρhones
And I giffy swipe
Me and [Bm]Vez laughing at y'all [Em]posts
'cause that shit be [Am]light
Bougie-ass ɾoster
Every bitch I got [Fm7]the picky type
You the type to [C7]lose yo last
Dub getting hit on [C7]dice
Running off at night? That ain't smart
Stick came with the lights
Superman punch, boy
The clerk better have kryptonite
Just horsed the plug
Grabbed him up and [Bm]told him fix his price
Why I'm praying for [Dm7]the money I'ma sin for?
Closet got [Fm7]too much heat tucked
Let's have a drip war
Unc' told me show him how to
Scam because his wrist sore
Wouldn't fight if you [A7was [Am7]5'8"
And I was [Am7]6'4" why would I do that when I
Got killers who let bullets fly?
I be [Am]ɾapping now but I
Still gotta jugg inside
I could up a hundred on [C7]the 'Gram, shit
Why would I lie?
Secret ɾecipe, cook it up like, look, voilà
Ha ha, yeah
Like, look, voilà (PrimoBeatz on [C7]the tɾack)
Yeah, what up, Vez? Ayy, ShittyBoyz
