[Intro]

Haha, I predicted all my—

Haha

Duh

I predicted all my—, I'm the weatherman, bitch (313 Mafia)

This bitch crazy

It was rainin', but

It was rainin', but, you know? Like

Ha

[Verse]

I predicted all my sunny days like I'm the weatherman

This bitch think I love her, she must live in Neverland

They must hate me 'cause I'm doin' shit they never can

Catch him stealin' from a list'll leave him with a severed hand

She gon' rip me out it 'cause my fit cost seven bands

Wouldn't fight my opposites if I had seven hands

Sneakers came from Paris with a bitch I met in France

You won't catch me tuckin' diamonds, bitch, I let 'em dance

All the baddies I done hit should throw me up on Zeus

Courtesy of Hutch, I still be cold inside my Goose

What you make a month I probably poured inside my juice

You can check our MRIs, it ain't no ho inside my group

I'm with the Militia, catch me posted up with soldiers

I dropped out of college, had more paper than my folders

Pendants or my bitches, I don't even know what's colder

Holy Bible or my bank account, don't know what's longer

Fuck the human race, bitch, I'm a loner

All you smell is zotti, zotti, zotti, I'm with stoners

Funny how I dog his bitch but she gon' eat my boner

Schwarzenegger or my Cartis, I don't know what's stronger

Boy, I treat your bitch just like I own her

Glocky in my Mike Amiri holster

Your bitch want my heart, I'm not a donor

I can only trust a ho as far as I can throw her

Pull up, hundred rounder throw his team in the spittal

Up around the floor, ain't no between or no middle

Jeans might be blue but I got green in my denim

You can't lock us out, we got the keys to the system

I don't pose for pictures, I up cheese when I'm in 'em

Got a couple tricks up in my sleeve, let me get 'em

She got messy head, I put my seed in her dental

Dog Shit Militia, smell like money, weed, and a kennel, haha

All got our own, we don't share shit

If we pull up striker, we can't spare shit

In the Lab like Morty, I don't wear Ricks

Knock the retina off your optic nerve if you stare, bitch

Is they suckin' or they fuckin'? Forty ass to hoes

Everytime we drop an opp, we pour our ass some fours

Goldie Glocks, point it where his poridge at and blow

Achieved everything I dreamed about, I'm soarin' past my goals, huh

Bitch, Dog Shit Militia