[Intro]

([Hombre?] made the beat, damn it)

[Chorus]

Tryna make the Forbes list, I need about eight figures

Put her on the whore list, 'cause I ain't finna play wit' her

I'ma keep sippin', but they sayin' I'm gettin' sicker

All of these baby bottles, you would think I'm a baby sitter

[Verse 1]

I'm tryna make the Forbes list, need about a hundred large

Backyard like a dealership, I need a hundred cars

Rap star, blowin' up, brighter than a hundred stars

You couldn't beat me if you re-tried and had a hundred starts

You can't fuck with me, even if you had a runnin' start

Made yo' bitch a fiend, pick her up , she off a hundred bars

I could get whatever for my dawg, he be punchin' cars

You could put whatever in yo' blunt, it don't fuck wit' ours

You can't put no trust up in yo' bitch 'cause they'll backstab

That bitch fell asleep, hopped in two hits like it was jab-jab

Soldiers with me steppin', I ain't never took no ASVAB

We'll spin your block and leave it lookin' like it's Baghdad

Yeah, I'm talkin' shit but you don't hear it, though

Too high, I just poured some Wocky in my cereal

A hundred songs, I ain't started this music 'til a year ago

Fucked a British bitch and then she left, told her cherrio

Masked up, and I'm swingin' sticks, Rey Mysterio

I'm turnt up, and you should hear me bumpin' through your stereo

I was slumpin' in that Tesla, I ain't even had to steer it, though

You say you livin' solid, y'ain't even got the spirit, though

[Chorus]

Tryna make the Forbes list, I need about eight figures

Put her on the whore list, 'cause I ain't finna play wit' her

I'ma keep sippin', but they sayin' I'm gettin' sicker

All of these baby bottles, you would think I'm a baby sitter

Tryna make the Forbes list, I need about eight figures

Put her on the whore list, 'cause I ain't finna play wit' her

I'ma keep sippin', but they sayin' I'm gettin' sicker

All of these baby bottles, you would think I'm a baby sitter

[Verse 2]

Yeah, all these damn bottles, you would think I was a bartender

If she don't got no ass, I'm not hoppin' in the car wit' her

I put her on the bench, I'm not even finna start wit' her

You could take her back, y'ain't eatin', you could starve wit' her

You could come and pick yo' bitch up then you could have her back

You can go and put yo' shot up, but I'm glassin' that

Boy, your songs weak, bitches not shakin' no ass to that

If they double teamin', best believe it that I'm passin' that, damn

I'm runnin' outta breath, that's a asthma attack

Found out buddy told somethin', I'm smakin' a rat

I don't feel safe and I get anxious, I'm packin' the gat

Both pockets filled up wit' Wills, I'm pattin' the stack

Yeah, both pockets filled up wit' Franks, that's the blue bills

If both of y'all is tryna snatch this chain, I'm gettin' two kills

I don't got pills, he sellin' pink and doin' blue dills

You try to play me, leave you swimmin' with the blue gills

[Chorus]

Tryna make the Forbes list, I need about eight figures

Put her on the whore list, 'cause I ain't finna play wit' her

I'ma keep sippin', but they say that I'm gettin' sicker

All of these baby bottles, you would think I'm a baby sitter