[Verse 1: Triple777]

It was all arrogance in hindsight, that's the narrative of my life

Fuck it though, I be on mine, break bread but drink all the wine

We can do it all on my time, unapologetically decline

Anything I find asinine, it's me bitch, I feel divine

Fuck conventional thought, bitches become conventional thots

After the shit society taught, then blame it on those who not

After Epstein's fake suicide, people still believe in the lies

C'mon now, read between thе lines, if you really woke you caught 'еm dead to rights

Goin' ghost, no one fuckin with me, that's how it goes when you outgrow yo' city

Just me with a couple fifties on that champagne, just to feel pretty

They say "T7 actin real silly,", I don't owe you shit, bitch, really?

I stood loyal, you left quickly, bet you'd come back if I made a mili'

Like damn, (That's life) I zoom past, no break lights

Thank God, no stage fright, I be hella raw on the west side, yeah

Live rent-free in every mind, I don't really give a shit so never mind

[Verse 2: YUNG FLEX]

If they sleeping, I'ma make 'em wake up

Quit the bitching nigga, get your pape' up

I ain't stopping 'til me and my gang up

And it's fuck everyone showing fake love

Like, fuck all the clout

Just tryna show these niggas what I'm about

Tell 'em to separate me from the crowd

What I'm spitting is real, no, I don't gotta shout

Shit could go south if you running your mouth

Quit the Twitter talking, internet complaining

If the blind lead the blind, there ain't no debating

I could give a fuck about what you be saying

Fuck the system, it's getting dismantled

You won't do shit if you don't take a gamble

Everyone lost, I'ma lead by example

While you just worried 'bout who next to be canceled

Oh my God, that's enough of that though, I'ma flex, it's in the name

I ain’t worried 'bout fame bitch, I'm worried 'bout checks

And no, this ain't rap, bitch, I'm spitting game

You could get your ass packed, I ain't one to retract

Nigga, you could cracked 'cause I bring the pain

Better check all the facts, bitch, I'm moving too tact'

I could get a few racks and be still the same

And that's real shit, I know you motherfuckers feel this

All these rappers suck, I hit the kill-switch

Fuck the acting tough, I'm spitting real bitch

I won't stop until I get a mil' bitch

And that's real shit, I hope you motherfuckers feel this

I know you motherfuckers feel this, like