Verse 1: Chetta

Magazine drop

The nine just jam but the choppa won't stop no

Got my whole block hot, whippin in the kitchen uh, got my wrist on locked woah

Gimmie whatchu got, taking what i need, who are you to tryna stop me

Gotti when i breath, xanax for the needs, hi-tech when im thirsty

Cup muddy, never sip clean

Neighborhoods love me like auntie in the fifteens

Switch schemes and i can still get it

Switch sides never that, they ain’t real wit it

Authentic my ways no need to prove shit

Got money for days, and still counting

Speaking of my name and talking down to me

No recognition, No fucks given

(Verse 2: Wavy Jone$)

Two blunts, one deep

Let em spark, whatchu know

I can't never trust a bitch

I ain't cuffing no hoe

All black ski mask

Slit wrist whos gone

Feel like god in the flesh

Im the next to the throne

Bitch i do what i want

Motherfuck cops

Blood red, drop top fuck an op

Fuck your boss, suck my dick, fuck your job

Fuck your name, fuck your clique, fuck your mob

Flexing down the 44, roller on my hand

Smoking bud the A1

Hoe i need more raw

More money, more cash

More digits on me

More pussy more ass more bitches on me

They know i got a pipe

But they can’t get it off me

They say i need another crown but they can't fit it on me

They only wanna see me down

Leave me dead and lonely

I got the devil on my shoulder i need a better homie

Sheesh