[Intro]

(Marc Boomin)

[Verse 1]

Niggas askin' why my pants saggin'

Probably 'cause of this Glock .23, I'm never lackin'

Bitch keep callin', tryna ask what's our current status

Run into your crib like I need everything, rip up the whole mattress

The IRS gon' have to come and get me, I ain't payin' taxes

Niggas workin' for a job everyday, checkin' in with master

He was already down, I shot him again, he checked out faster

Tell a label come with a hundred million, they can have my masters

[Interlude]

Damn, I just forgot the next bar

What the fuck I just say?

I just—, no, no, no

What the fuck I just say?

[Verse 2]

None of my plays goin' through, it is just not my day

You don't look out for your niggas, that is just not okay

Nigga callin' me his mans and we just met today

You shoppin' with the wrong niggas, you just got your ass laced

Your mans might be hatin' on the low, test him and see if he two-faced

Them Rolex be too cheap, fuck the red and blue face

I'm 'bout to get this shit sold, I want the green and wock cases

I'm 'bout to hop out in the field, let me tie my shoelaces

Money comin' in in bags, it's like a nigga printin' paper

'Bout to make some fake IDs, I need some ink and printing paper

Choke slam a nigga on his back and beat his ass like Undertaker

How you want it? I'll square up with a nigga and chase him down with a laser

[Interlude]

Alright, what the fuck was I 'bout to say again?

I keep forgettin' my bars

Alright, yeah, alright

I got it, I got it

[Verse 3]

I'll make a nigga beatbox, SpotGottem

Oh, you need some weed, drank, and Percs? Pull up, the spot got it

This nigga said he wanna drive the weed back, just lobby it

Remember bein' twenty deep in the hood just mobbin'

My lil' niggas be slidin' everyday while they dodgin'

When I get my foot in the industry, I'ma dominate

I got some indoor bowls for 23, but they half shake

Shot a nigga in his right arm, now he half bake

I got on Supreme and Louis V, the one collab they made

Every time a nigga tell a story, he over exaggerate

It's crazy, a nigga will run off over a lil' pape

But you know I ain't trippin' 'cause I still got a full plate

She asked for my number and I gave the bitch the full eight

Throw the Glock to my mans, he gon' pull that bitch like Clay

Think I need a money counter, I've been countin' shit all day

I done made at least five to ten racks in each state, count that up

[Outro]

I keep fuckin' forgettin' my bars

Punch me—, no, no, no, don't punch me in, man

Fuck this—, I'm leavin', I'm leavin', man

Fuck this

Alright, I'm 'bout to come out there