[Verse 1: Miles Ryan]

I just got back from Atlanta

My relatives told me keep grindin'

Boy you got the juice, Tropicana

Round table minding my manners

I might just go touch down in Vegas

See buzzo cause he got the blammers

I dress like my mirror's the cameras

I feel like I'm already famous

Boy I need that range for my mama

Zeroes and commas

Don't try us, we with that drama

I turn that spot to Uganda

I don't know why but we shot him I'm sorry your honor...

Never been to jail and I don't plan to go

Nowadays these niggas don't got nothin' that they standing for

Imma press the line, powder fine

That's a gram of snow

I told my plug to triple pack the brown sugar D'angelo

We do that for k-9's

Heard about another juug from the grapevine

They talkin' 'bout uzi's, AK's, 9's

You know them long clips, shit this ain't Vine

And if it's 'bout the product then I'm picky

If it's super sticky then hit Ricky on the blicky

My main chicky only get a quicky

Loyal to my clicky

If I got a hundred then my partner got 50

I always got some hitters with me

If I'm not I'm Popovich got that Thiago Splitter with me

My bitch is bitter with me

Hoes want a picture with me

She off a bean I might lick her if the liquor in me

I feel that

Cheffin' up the stove is real hot

And if I pull out my wallet it look like I spilled guac

Bust a script or two I bet you I can make a seal pop

Westside, we still tryna find whoever killed Pac

And I know my LA niggas still flock

This Orange County, I can point you to a jewelry filled spot

Believe it

Boy I don't know why I'm so conceited

From now on hello Mr. Wavy's how I'm gettin' greeted

My ego super hungry I know someone finna feed it

And you can either like it, or love it, or leave it

[Hook]

'Cause everybody wanna be the plug

But don't nobody wanna get robbed

Everybody talkin' 'bout drugs

But they don't know what come with the job

I'm wavy, I'm wavy baby (x2)