[Intro]

Ayy

[Verse]

Gang five deep, splash around like the Great Lakes

Why you uppin' funny money? Why you thumbin' fake pape'?

(Helluva made this beat, baby)

Do that got a CO2 tank? Why the fuck you totin' fake Drac'?

Shoppin' off of Alibaba, why you rockin' fake Bape?

Karo, Karo, you sippin' fake drank

Oh, okay, I see what's goin' on, boy, you fake-fake

I just made some real pape' with a fake name

Tryna act like BabyTron, like, oh, okay, you fake James

Eatin' off the banks, but I'll stop to take a steak break

Amiris with the bandanas, lookin' like I gangbang

What's that one saying?

Sit your five-dollar ass down before I make change

No fakin'

201 plug on Telegram, he speak Croatian

Looking for his badge number, heard he givin' infomation

Huh, congrats

Huh, congrats, congrats, you just played yourself, hang yourself

You should take the switch, turn it on and go and spank yourself

Yappin' like the head honcho, must've went and ranked yourself

Wrestlin' with the monkey on my back, I'm tryna win the title

Preachin' in the booth, you would've thought these verses in the Bible

You would think she Pocahontas, lil' bitch, she givin' tribal

Zero losses on my record, Scottie Pippen in the finals

BR1 and 2 on wax, come and get a vinyl

Every time I throw a touchdown, that bitch a spiral

Treat these hoes like water bottles how they get recycled

I've been travelin' all week, this my sixth arrival

Bitch head fire, my shoes got blew off

Ridin' with that— fah-fah-fah, let's have a shoot off

That one shit'll turn your titi into Rudolph

I know you read the shirt, shit, it's hard to cut root off

He was grabbin' on the blick, but didn't bust and gave it blue balls

In middle school, I was trippin' salmon to the blue hall

Man, I really hate it when your boo call

'Cause that's the type of shit that really piss my boo off

Street ballin', shit, it's time to cut the rules off

Poured a deuce of that juice, I'm finna snooze off

Talkin' for no reason, I'm just thinkin', "Who's dog?"

Get him out of here, point him to the door

When it's time for a skit, I'm gon' point him to the floor

Naw, I ain't pointin' at you, bro

The bitches 'round you kinda cute, I'm only pointin' at the hoes

I can't take her on a trip, she get annoyin' on the road

That— 'll destroy a junkie's nose

If your stash matched your height, you would be on Muggsy Bogues

Shit, my pockets paralyzed, but— yeah

Shit, my pockets paralyzed, I walk around with bloody toes

Told you that the Quagen break was why I had a runny nose

An elbow of Joke's Up, you'd think I'm smokin' funny bone

Got Haribo flavors with these hoes, I give 'em gummy though

Chopper knocked the hair up off him, Kobe eight to twenty-four

Like, ain't it twenty-eight to one? Or like, fifty to six?

Catch him out of town, you'd probably still see Jimmy with blick

The way the junkies returnin', you'd think the rizzie the mix

Skied up in Philli', motherfucker thought I was Kwame

Motherfucker thought that I was Kwame doin' all this juggin'

Doin' all this goddamn scammin', all this damn hammin'

Asked if it's designer, don't you feel the goddamn fabric?

Bro a demon, shit, he swears to Satan

Why you sellin' pints of green? They only cost a pair of Asics

If you had the sauce I got, you'd probably have to wear an apron

In interrogation with an agent look like Sarah Palin

Got a thing for them light-skinned, curly hair, with braces

I can't help it

Huh, team player, I ain't selfish

These nuts, booga-wooga-wooga