Outta Town - Intellectual

[Intro]

(Juppy on the beat)

(Killer goin' crazy)

Bitch want me to go buy her a purse, still ain't let me—

Bitch want me to go buy her a purse, but she ain't let me fuck

Clutchin' in the mall, thuggin' with my dog, nigga, got my pistol tucked

Bitch keep callin' my phone talkin' 'bout she love me, but I don't give a fuck

Fuck a seven, I'm tryna cash out on a Maybach or a Bentley truck

Used to send shots out the backseat, now I'm sendin' hits from outta town

Can't none of my opps go rack for rack, Mike Tyson, pound for pound

Trackstar, we run him down

Knock the bitch out of bounds, shh, don't make a sound

(Hah, hah, hah, hah)

I'm the reason Mobile hot as fuck and it's the wintertime

Bought that ho some Taylor Port, shе ate my dick, I call that wine and dine

My nеw bitch twenty-five, fuck I look like out here playin' with a dime?

Got my cross from Audemars jewelry, not Wafi, but they still shine

We ain't no thieves, but we steal opps

He let us catch him lackin', hahaha, then he got euthanized

Slap a nat bitch gettin' on my nerves, I treat them hoes like flies

In all black like I'm Plies, they don't come outside, pray one day, we collide

If you gon' slide, then hop up out that bitch, we don't do no drive-bys

Dirty project bitch, I clean that lil' ho up with Tide pods

Went to jail a gangster, now his favorite color tie-dye

With this money, I make fuck niggas disappear, screamin', "Voila"

Uh, I believe in God, but some of my brothers pray to Allah

Plus he was a gangster, but his partners said that Li Rye worth the rah-rah

'Fore they had switches in the city, shootouts used to sound like fah, fah-fah, fah

Now it sound like rrah-rrah

I ain't with the rah-rah, bitch, I'm tryna murder one

Purple in my cup, but them lil' babies, I ain't never heard of one

Four-five nineteen, left the big shells in this bitch, this ho my turtle gun

She got five kids, so I know that pussy good, she leave, nigga'll probably murder her