[Intro: Trapland Pat]

(Welcome back, Blake)

(Xair, let me get that motherfucker)

Yeah (Duh-duh-duh)

[Verse 1: Trapland Pat]

We cuttin' through the Bronx, home runnin', think we with the Yankees

Raw paper championship ring, I got it on my pinky (Yeah)

If you don't see Luh Tyler and lil' Kosher, nigga, quite frankly (Z, Z)

Trap done went and ran them racks up, he just went dressin' janky

[Verse 2: Luh Tyler]

I'm in the booth, me and trap on that gas, man this shit stanky

Got your bitch in here, and she throwin' ass, she keep sayin', "Spank me''

See, these niggas they ain't tryna get no bag, I don't know what they thinkin'

Nigga, I ain't tryna make no friendships 'cause they get to sinkin'

[Verse 3: BLP Kosher]

Hoppin' out on feet, Passion Pit, I take a walk

Machine gun stays by my side like I'm Megan Fox

Them boys playing air guitar, bitch, I really rock

Spody and Luh Jojo in the cut, that's a butchers block

I'm with Luh Tyler, no Creator, odd future turnin' bright

Under my shirt that shinin' armor only hittin' licks at night

That's a dog fight, I'm breakin' that shit up like Dana White

Jew's name was Mike Cook, he let me cook and pass the mic

Jitterbug jittery, I ain't buggin', they some lice

Long nights up in that yo, done had to make a sacrifice

They disrespected 'til they saw I blew up, now they actin' right

We be shinin' bright, the opps mad, flexin' moissanite

[Verse 4: Trapland Pat]

My side bitch from Brooklyn

Pull up from that three, hit the net another booking

Niggas man-hattin', quit cappin' before we hook them

I don't understand why they hating on my chances when I took them

All my hoes on my roster so bad, but I don't whoop them

[Verse 5: Luh Tyler]

Yeah, all my niggas doin' good but all my bitches bad

Man, I swear these hoes be for the team and they be getting passed

See you ran up a lil' cash, but that ain't finna last

I be stayin' in my lane, I ain't nothin' like you niggas

Man, my nigga, he insane, got a button on his pistol

I'll hit that nigga bitch like it's nothing, bet he miss her

I just jumped up on the mic, then I took off like a missile

I'm a big dog to you niggas, bet they call me Mister

Can't get your bitch off me, she see these diamonds and these crystals

I'ma snap any time you put me on the instrumental

Look at my neck, that bitch on froze, it get cold like December

[Verse 6: Trapland Pat]

Believe what you see, not what you heard 'cause it ain't in vain (Duh-duh-duh)

Twenty-five thousand grams of swappery, I zoed the strain (Yeah)

My Cali' bitch tryna go skiing 'cause of Tyler chain

Twenty-five ain't gon make the cut for that Johnny Dang (No)

I can show you how to make the ends meet if it ain't circulation (Haha)

You gon' have to really lock in, use your concentration

If a nigga say he run Deerfield, thats exaggeration

Skii done beat that hat 'bout that Z, he ain't even Haitian

[Verse 7: BLP Kosher]

Pat told me stay from 'round a trick, he ain't Odell

Cash rules everything around me like the Carvel

Amy Winehouse, I'm sippin' cherry in the motel

Sir smoke a lot of opps, Half Baked, Dave Chapelle

Speedin' to that cheese in Saint Pete, but I'm not Russian

Whoop-de-whoop just slid the pine tree with a bakers dozen

He was stretchin' shit before the fame like he Danny Duncan

Catch him out back and I'ma fry him, that's a blooming onion