(Timmy Da HitMan)
Huh, what?
What? What? What? What? What?
What? What?
What's crackin'? What? (What?)
Or whatever I'm brackin' on, bitch
Yeah, that my blood (That my blood), I got all Fives 'round this bitch
These hoes wan' fuck, these niggas can't fuck with none of us in this bitch
I'ma hit at your clique with the stick (Baow)
Make me turn your lil' boys to a lick (A lick)
I got stripper big booty bitches blowin' up on my phone
Too much swag, stylist come, I try on clothes inside of my home
Put yo' bitch in VLone
Bitch, play what you please long as you don't put no QC on
Bitch, I make you bleed, ho
Bitch, I know I bleed, ho
Bang a red flag, big B, ho (Hell, yeah)
Bitch, get on your knees, ho (Yeah, yeah)
Come on, suck it with no teeth, ho (Yeah, yeah, yeah)
I'm rich, I'm rich, I'm rich, bitch, I'm rich as shit
Come get it, got to whip it
Know I got to whip it, nigga, come and get your bitch
Molly, Molly, Holly, Wolly, had a thottie wit' a badass body
I don't play that shit, I keep that chopper
I might buy me a Maserati
Shoot that drum at that bitch, it's a thottie
'Fore I give you my shit, you know I'ma pop it
Bitch, give me yo' soul, give me yo' body
Swag up, the bitch pop out for mama
I get high in this bitch, on soul
I'm so high in this bitch, I'm gone
I might make her pack a nigga, bitch, come touch your toes
Still'll make a R&B bitch come here and hand off her phone
Give a fuck 'bout how good she can sing, bitch, get that phone, yeah
Bitch, get that phone, ho
Huh, bitch, get that phone, yeah-yeah
Huh, bitch, get that phone, ho
Bitch, get that phone, oh yeah-yeah-yeah
My brothers, they kick in that door (Yeah-yeah)
I don't like that nigga, a ho (Yeah-yeah)
I don't like that lil' boy's bitch
I do not like my ho for to hear none of these songs
Like when I breakin' her back to my songs
Makin' these bitches take racks at home
Clingy type of time you on
Buy me clothes that fit me right
I don't know who fuckin' side you on
I just know that this wrong and they real right
I ain't fuckin' on her at night
I ain't put money on yo' head, that's right
Bang red, that blood, my thug, my Five
You know slime could get this party hype
Shootout, soon as I get outside
Rudolph, beam on his nose and eyes
Chew-out, which one gon' eat me right?
Geeky, lil' geek, I'm higher than high, uh-huh
I'm a geek, I been geeked and I'm higher than high, bitch
I get higher with her when I'm shoppin' online, bitch, yeah
I can get out my words through this everytime (Bitch, yeah)
Yeah, and this bitch is a geek without you on my side (Bitch, yeah)
You not my slime, bitch, don't play with my money you know you might die (Bitch, yeah)
I got factory tires on bottom of each of my rides (Bitch, yeah)
I got factory tires on bottom of each of my rides (Bitch, yeah)
I got more money than you lil' boys, y'all some bitches (Bitch, yeah)
I can't even drive and got more cars, your shit is leased or rented (Bitch, yeah)
Know we make shit hype, pop out Rolls Royce, on back got switches (Bitch, yeah)
I don't give no fuck 'bout who a star, I don't want you bitches (Bitch, yeah)
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