[Intro]

(WoodOnDaBeat)

Golden, CountUp

Ayy

I'ma let this bitch breathe, nigga

But I got my foot on these niggas' neck, won't let these niggas breathe, nigga

Yeah

Jump in this coupe, bitch, put your seatbelt on

Nigga goin' a hundred miles per hour through the stop signs

Ayy, come on

I'm on that fly shit

Uh, I'm on that fly shit

Nigga, ayy

Golden, mmm

[Verse 1]

So much pain in my body, mama, I don't know who to trust

Always knew I was gon' blow, nigga, I feel it in my gut

I was broker than a bitch, rollin' mids in a Dutch

Mike died, nigga, I gotta get these M's, it's a must

I treat her like a baby mama, but she used to be my lady

And I ain't takin' care of you hoes, nigga, I'm takin' care of my baby

You bitches kicked me whеn I was low, so don't be mad a nigga made it

And Golden rеally seein' M's now, my ex-bitches hate it

Nigga, I was fucked up, I was sleepin' in my car

Nigga, I was posted up sellin' weed out a jar

Nigga, I sold a hundred pills, then I bought my first car

Fast forward a couple years, Golden, you a superstar, ayy

[Interlude]

Trap shit, nigga

Came out that motherfuckin' trap for real, nigga

Give a fuck what no nigga talkin' 'bout, nigga

Feel me? Ayy

Know what I'm sayin'?

It ain't 'bout the, it ain't 'bout the

It ain't 'bout the hardest nigga, nigga

Then get that motherfuckin' money, nigga

[Verse 2]

Dope boy Res and Dickie 'fits, nigga, we trapped out

Fuck nigga, you ain't really gettin' no money, we know you capped out

I just fucked this bitch like a dog, then she tapped out

I'll drop them bands on that nigga, get him clapped now

Dope Nikes and white tees, jit, we really trap

We don't even listen to them niggas 'cause they really cap

On my mama, I'm a trap nigga, I don't really rap

How the fuck them niggas in the club and them niggas strapped?

I just fucked a pretty Black bitch on two hundred thousand

Told cuh this a long way from them public houses

I got rap money, trap money, I got money pilin'

I can peep a police-ass nigga, I can hear the siren

Four-forty-eight on that scale, that's a whole chicken

Nigga, you want thirty-three grams? That's a Scottie Pippen

He say he can't trust his own dogs, they'll Money Mitch him

Cuh, your people snake, nigga 'round you, better go and flip him (Brrt)