954 - Intellectual

[Intro]

"..But you kept being a broke ass jit, homie.. It's 2024, jit! Get yo' bread up!" ("Enrgy made this one!")

(Shit, shit)

Shit, uh, aye

I get the pape' all by myself, don't need no letterman

Cookin' up in the fuckin' kitchen like [?]

Denim Tears on me, nigga, I don't rock no VETEMENTS

F&N bullets in the chop, it shoot better, man

I don't like the—, fuck (Oh my God)

I don't like the Glock, I might switch to the Beretta, man

Heard you sendin' hits, Imma eat that shit for dinner, man

You a snitch in middle school, you a tattletale

We was sendin' blicks all day, I don't gotta [?]

Big ass chop', yeah, the size of a fucking whale

If I ain't do this shit right, bitch, shit, I'd be in fucking jail

Hop inside the fuckin' whip, Ion' need no keys, I jump in there, ay

Slime, what you said? Okay, you up in there

We got hella magazines, we <"i>Fftrr—", yeah, we dumping them

Nigga know we step on shit, we "Fftrr—", yeah, we crumple them

And she heard my music quick, my dick, she tryna jump on it, ay

Do this shit in every season, this shit lightwork

I'll buy it all, I don't need to see the price worth, ay

They say, "Spec, how the fuck you make the mic work?

Catch me in her crib like, "How the fuck I make the light work?

Ayy, ayy, shit

Two five and tens, big F&Ns

Call up the man like Ion' gotta call up [?]

He was talkin' crazy, now his ass in the cement

Ayy, what's on me? 5-Gen (Ayy, ayy)

Pull up to your city, what the fuck I meant? (Ayy, ayy)

I be spazzin', Ion' need no fuckin' pen (Ayy, ayy)

I be rappin', shit I say could get me banned (Ayy, shit)

What the fuck, jit? You talkin' out your chin, ay, bitch

Bentley truck, what the fuck, you know we in, ay, bitch

Bitch, call my son, shoot them guns off the fuckin' rim

Yeah, that nigga hard, but I'm crazy, so I'm not like him

Ion' sip no Par, get that Wocky, put that shit in stock

Young ass nigga, going up, like a fucking stock

Get the work in motion, call my son, and then I get the drop

I can make five bands on my ass, and Ion' gotta drop

I get the pape' all by myself, don't need no letterman

Cookin' up in the fuckin' kitchen like [?]

Denim Tears on me, nigga, I don't rock no VETEMENTS

F&N bullets in the chop, it shoot better, man

I don't like the—, fuck (Oh my God)