[Verse]

Talkin' to the mic, it's no one else to vent to

He'll go and blow it all, knowin' the rent due

We done quintupled their score, it's like 10-2

He don't know his drank at all, 'd probably buy a fent' deuce

Never ever would I fold or break but bitch we bend coupes

Only date I'll take that lil' bitch on is to the bedroom

Couple thousand blues up in my jeans, you'd think my legs bruised

(Baby, give me some cash)

(ShittyBoyz)

Chillin on the Audemars, I'm in my Rollie еra

Catching plays in Cartiers, I look like Yogi Berra

Tryna show thе kid her goodies, you would think the ho Sierra

Neighbor acting like she grabbing mail, stop being nosey, Sarah

Tuh, that's the 'burbs for you

I could be a pint of Wock', I wouldn't perp to you

I'm a hundred, Ben Frank, but never changing like a penny

Used to have a piggy bank, I know to save it 'til it's heavy

Lil' ho got that water on her, type that's breaking through the leavies

Thinkin' he the comp, he must be out here facing blunts of fetty

Eyes all around my head, it ain't no way to slime me out

Spot looking like a Dairy Queen when it be ninety out

This bitch slammin', this bitch active, this bitch whammin', this bitch slappin'

Life a gamble and it's obvious you threw a crap

They gon pick me up regardless, I ain't gotta shoot for cap

Add me up, you need the calculator app to do the math

Tryna fit in with the gang, he fucked around and blew his stash

I just checked doggy's stats and it was goose eggs

I got lows, catch some more, but this some new bread

Talkin' 'bout your life a movie, must be bootleg

So many bitties in here going, I'ma need a few beds

Yeah, I fucked, but if I see her out, I got dementia

Cream soda Faygo, I done turned the pop magenta

Thought he got a brick of soft, the rookie copped some Splenda

Shoutout to the fans that always try to push the Tron agenda

Shooter pulled up off the Henny, fucked around and J.R Smith-ed it

Picking up some chicken in the A, but not no J.R. Crickets

You would think it's tryna score a goal the way the AR kickin'

Sent forty shots out the drum and now it's Neymar in it

Couldn't sneak the blicky, but my lil' ho got her taser in

Tryna pull my bitch with empty pockets, be done made her cringe

Stick to uppin' guns on multiplayer, you a gamer kid

Seven hundred horses in the foreign, call it Lazer Dim

I wouldn't even touch your bitch with a stick

Driver need to chill out, speeding, it's a brick in the Lyft

Hope your kicks got some grip, you might slip in the drip

You would think granny whooped it, hit my blick with a switch

Double cup as dirty than the fuck, you'd think my pop stink

I ain't squarin' up in this Chrome Heart, no I am not Tank

Flashy with the fraud, I'm signing fluke checks with mock blanks

When it comes to playing roles with hoes, you'd think I'm Tom Hanks

Magic man, but I ain't Datsyuk

Quick to put my hitter on your head just like some Cantu

F&N perform a face buster like it's Sabu

Saved her contact as, "Finish Line," that lil' ho ran through

What's on your feet? Shit you must've cut the grass in those

Ain't no way you got some ass in those

His pockets tapped, you would think they couldn't grab the ropes

Lil' brodie quit his job at Kroger, now he baggin' dope

I hit his bitch, so he saying that we opps

But he ain't on a thing, so I'm saying that we not

[Outro]

ShittyBoyz, Dog Shit Militia, long live $cam, you know?

Hey, nyah