[Verse 1: MAC]

I'ma bust a move like Mike Jack

Stay tucked, lil nigga, 'cause you might lack

Stay pimpin', two hoes in the hatchback

Fuck a duffel, put the Gs in the knapsack

Mac in the spot, say crackin' the box

Got the game on lock, put 'em on like socks

No Roddy Rich, put a nigga in the box

Go dummy with the drums, I got all the chops

All you do is talk, you ain't really 'bout the action

I spit fire, get fly like a dragon

Niggas know I'm the root, like Latin

Said you wanna get rich so I asked him

T.D., B.O.A., chase who you bank with?

Said the bag is the only thing I'm chasin'

Stars on the ceiling, beat it up in the spaceship

Make a nigga see the vision like LASIK

First link, like a test, I'ma ace it

I'm too good for you bitches, face it

Soon as you get into the room, get naked

I'm a dickhead, my ego inflated

Tryna link with Stacy

She got a best friend named Sasha

Dark-skinned lil shorty named Tracy

Slim thick, and I heard she from Ghana

So, all of you bitches be basic

But my main shorty hotter than a sauna

I don't slide on the block, don't pop shit

But I'ma still give a lame nigga trauma, ooo

[Verse 2: JT ATM]

I got a dozen bagels in my bank account

Write a check to the jeweler with a blank amount

If you talk about hits, yea we crank 'em out

3rd Ave this in this bitch ain't no faking now

All my homies are bad bitches

All my homies got mad riches

Surrounded by the bread like sandwiches

I always wrap it up like bandages

Never free, I always got plans because

I get to the green, yea I get to the cheese

When it comes to the pussy, I say yes, please

Fuck a bitch good, make her weak in the knees

Yea I hit a bad bitch and her baddie bestie

Fuck a scantron, can't even test me

Fucking Pope John, can't even bless me

I move in the night like I'm a chess piece

Tell her get out the room 'cause, shh, I'm resting

[Verse 3: Thai Thai]

Cole like Bennett, handle my business

Every week fashion week, I'm too fitted

I run from the bad bitches, I'm too timid

I'm a go-getter, bitch I'm gon get it

Shawty ain't tryna ride in yo rented

This a Benz truck, the windows so tinted

This my new flow, the smooth, I invented

You cannot bite the style, just quit it

Back it up, bitch, never heard nothing like this

My shit so sick like I'm spitting a virus

Fuck with my clique 'cause u lookin' to die, bitch

My ho, a milf in a midlife crisis

Make it make sense, wait make it make m's

Yeah, my bitch bad, Barbie would've thought I was Ken

You better stop, drop, and roll when I pick up the pen

And if we fuckin' then I bet you never see me again, leugh

[Verse 4: TypeOh]

Used to wear clothes that ain't fit me

Now I'm walking out the fucking store rocking cross B's

I heard I got a fan out in Sydney

Once we get a show in the oz give her box seats

Like I hit an opp with a stick in the head

For the past six years I done picked up the pen

Ever since then my money got big

Bigger than the first pick in 87

Where the hoes at, I'm trynna fuck

My body on ice, a hockey puck

Pulled a card with fate and drew luck

Take a shot at me and I ain't gon duck

Duck, goose, I'm the one yo bitch gon' choose

3rd Ave on the breaking news

Pull up and we breaking rules, bitch