[Intro]

(Hahaha)

Yeah, woah, yeah

[Verse]

Five lines in my Fanta

They say it's worse than cancer

Slimy green bandana

My twin stay in Atlanta

These real tattoos, no henna

My bitch bad, got henna

Yeah, my car fast as fuck, no rental

That boy actin', Jared Leto

That boy cappin', we gon' get him

My gun keep clappin', round of applause for you

Keep lead like a pencil

You want smoke? We'll bring all the guys for you

Twin, I'm gon' die for you, twin, I'm gon' slide for you, uh

Benz burnin' tires, rubber

My bro, he a slimy fucker

Ball Hog on my black trucker

Told the ho just suck dick, won't hug her

You know we come trim, yeah, Hedi Slimane, Dior runners

Hittin' on this ho, yeah, she want me, and my brother

We some codeine lovers, yeah

Keep my cutters, yeah

Draco tucked, might hit you, brother, yeah

You wan' box? We don't box

Shoot this chop, smoke good 'za, woo

Exotic shit, got me popped

Hm, we get guap, got bad bitches on a yacht

Please don't play with us, we'll put your dumbass on Fox

You don't got no guap, just shut the fuck up, we can't talk

Fat-ass bankroll stuffed in my skinny jeans, I can't even walk

Call my twin, let's pour some drop

Call my twin, drop bands on ya

Wake up in the mornin', like, damn, I need some Wock'

I been ballin' hard for four seasons, bitch, check the clock

Russian cream or grape woods? I just hit my ock

Twin all in the field with sticks like his ass play lacrosse

Yeah, bullets get to clappin', round of applause

Huh, had to tell that bitch ain't no ho in me, I'm a big dog