She want that big bag, she don’t want that lil’ girl shit I just get mad when you on that lil’ girl shit (ATL Jacob, ATL Jacob)
Drink a six down, tell your bro to stop to get a kit Worth them Ms, now me and my lil’ brother got a stick Drunk a Xan down, woke up and forgot what I had said My shit jet brown, new Dior sneakers kinda slick (Why would I lie on him?) Think he slick ’cause he tried to take his brother off (Why would I lie on him?)
One nigga can’t stop the killings, only money talk (Why would I lie on him?) Gotta watch the sneaky hoes snatchin’ rubbers off (Why would I lie on him?) I told you to your face, you’re a snake, so cut the brother talk (Why would I lie?) Tried to skrrt off, you get clapped though, let the thirty off Ever shot at in a Maybach, knock your curtains off I feel like niggas gonna tell you start the prayer talk I aggravated you, you dumb, you scratched the numbers off
Oh, hell nah, Chicago star, don’t want them bell bums Could’ve got out early, but they caught him with a cellphone You can’t tell me nothin’, I’m with the murders, I’ma stand on it You can’t tell me nothin’, them niggas different, can’t compare ’em to me Pull up with a stick, pull up with a big gun Pull up with a stick, pull up with a stick, uh Hit up with a switch, he don’t even know where he hit from Worried ’bout my bitch, you don’t even knowin’ what your bitch doin’, uh I’m so rich I bring the barber in the club I’m so rich, I’m with the robbers in the club You end up snitchin’, then you not a part of us Bitch, this a Patek, this is not a Cartier
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Where you get that shit from? Where you get that shit from? Where you get that shit from? Where you get that shit from? Where you get that shit from? Where you get that shit from? Where you get that shit from? Where you get that shit from?
This nigga called my phone, fifty grams, nigga, that’s patty cake I don’t even fuck around with no scales, nigga, that’s petty weight All my bitches be in the kitchen cookin’, got they ass bakin’ cakes Could’ve went to school for culinary arts, I would’ve went every day Thought I’d have my CDL license, fucked up that interstate
Hit the road, gettin’ to that cash, bitch, I’m a heavyweight (I’m a big dawg, I’m a big dawg, I’m a big (Go, go, go, man, what?)) {I’m a big dawg, I’m a big dawg, I’m a big dawg (Go, go, go)} I’m a problem with that trappin’ shit Don’t call my phone if you ain’t never fuckin’ wrapped a brick A thousand-eight grams I cop, I need my whole lick Got reputation in the trenches, I don’t ever miss
