[Verse 1: Che Ecru]

Hey, throw that ass like it's four ton

In the gym two years, you a force now

Yeah, these niggas switched on it, get a course now, oh

Tell them, "Bitch, pipe down"

And if you need a man, girl, you know you gon' hit up

Don't you found love in a shitty club

Oh, yeah, you don't get that shit mixed up

Gettin' all your money and your paystubs

Yeah, yeah, throw ass that back like

You had to take it right back, right

You ain't even fit, you tried it on last night

If the head ain't right, uh, go back twice, yeah

Shawty want you right, right, yeah

If I [?] I got the pack right, yeah

If she throw it back she worth a bag, right, yeah

Hit it from the back, make her act right, yeah

[Pre-Chorus: Che Ecru]

Smokin' on my weed, baby, you fuckin' know

All damn week, baby, yeah, it's for sure

[Chorus: Che Ecru]

Got it just like that, uh

Shawty wanna fuck with me just like a night cap, uh

I just got there and she on the flight back, uh

I'ma get it right, get it right, get it, uh, get it

[Verse 2: Bryson Tiller]

It's 2 A.M. and I'm turned up

I had a view, should've capped at the first one

Moonshine through the curtains

Too fine, had to catch you in person

Cut your ex off, he a snake, he a serpent

Hit the gym early, I see you, girl, it's workin' (Fire)

Yeah, it's mine and I'm certain

Pen Griffey, bitch, you know you can't curve him (Oh)

You come around and (Yeah) bring the heat up

Yeah, you hot like fever

I'm tryna kick it like soccer, like FIFA

Smoke up my reefa, bag was like a tree trunk

I had to re-up, smokin' green pepper (Trilla)

I'm tryna keep up, known to fuck the beat up

Man, I'm too cold, man, this summer gon' freeze up

[Pre-Chorus: Che Ecru, Bryson Tiller, Che Ecru & Bryson Tiller]

Smokin' on my weed, baby (Baby, yeah), you fuckin' know

All damn week, baby, yeah, it's for sure

[Chorus: Che Ecru]

Got it just like that, uh

Shawty wanna fuck with me just like a night cap, uh

I just got there and she on the flight back, uh

I'ma get it right, get it right, get it, uh, get it

[Verse 3: Bryson Tiller]

They be like, "No cappin", I be coppin' from the dealership

They cannot put a cap on it, my cap is fuckin' infinite

Nike cap been finished, but Pen Griffey never finished

I'ma pen another hit, my craftsmanship, they like my penmanship

That's no cap like a banisher, no cap like 49ers, ho

She thought we was tight, but girl, that was a long time ago

Now bitches finer thought, I did shit with Rihanna, ho

My cheddar look like Geronimo, that's all kind of O's

And you smell the weed smoke, two-seater dark tints so she could, ayy (Haha)

So she could, ayy, Tiller, this Serenity, I'm goin' beast mode (God damn)