Lowkey - Intellectual

[Intro]

Keep that shit lowkey Tae

I'm drivin' through the sticks, my plates hot

He wanna ball I'm pullin' up and servin' straight drop

Listen to when the K pop, niggas start usin' they legs

Was in a holdin' cell, he askin' questions, must be fed

We in the field put on yo' pads and duck yo' head

She throwin' ass and this bitch shaped like Sexyy Red

She thought 'cause I got money I'm a trick but that shit dead

Go fuck wit' one of them lil' niggas who ain't used to gettin' bread

I'm in a mall, my pockets full, might spend yo' salary

We robbed a nigga and shot his crib up, he still taggin' me

I'm gettin' slips, I got some fire shit from U.S. Treasury

I'm sittin' back doin' the dirty work, they bring the cash to me

I got the bitch harassin' me, she ain't know I slang it

Gettin' too much bread, they think I'm doin' rituals wit' Satan

This shit easy, get the money then you save it

He broke as hell ain't tryna get no cash, he too lazy

I just sharked a nigga bitch, she too tender

They caught the nigga sleepin' in his whip, he cooked dinner

I flew her out then gave the bitch some shit to take wit' her

I'm in the crib countin' up a dub while I watch Sinners

He ain't get no cheese he a scrub, we don't fuck wit' him

I went directly to the plug, I'm cuttin' niggas out the middle

I'm outta town gettin' some iPhones, I stash 'em in the rental

My opp broke as hell, been gettin' his ass beat since we was little

He runnin' off we put him on a griddle, his ass cooked

I'm walkin' out the bank wit' hella dogshit, the staff shook

We set the play and found out where he at, the shit was textbook

We got a real check and scratched the numbers off, my chef cooked

I'm pullin' up right in the paint like D Booker

We robbed a nigga for his shit, he sweet sugar

He probably thinkin' 'bout hittin' a lick, just keep lookin'

I'm ridin' through the sticks, ain't got no plates, they might cook me