[Intro]

Ayy, yeah

(Creed B Good, Creed B Good, yeah)

Look, yeah, look

[Verse]

Racks up in my pockets, I'm about to hit the Fendi store

[?] on, I'm about to make like twenty more (Of course)

Many men don't like me, it's about to go be many more

I don't like my grandma's house 'cause I got to do many chores (Nope)

I'm talkin' many chores, I'm finna pop it off

Cherry on it just to top it off, finna knock it off

When I switch the flow, I go insane, I'm in a white room

Grab the broom, then I dust these niggas, and I mop 'em off

Knock 'em out, then I put my phone out to Bluetooth

Then I put that drill to his head, 'cause he got loose screws

Belt to ass season, BB Simon, and we whoop you

Street performer, pull up to New Orleans with a voodoo

Diamonds dancin' off my middle finger like a weddin' ring

See you at the playground, knock you out, you hit the renegade

Spazzin' on the track, the whole album, I'm finna shut the game

Rub my pockets out the [?], I'm still gettin' paid