[Intro:]
Yo, fried turkey, I'm outchea. I'm really outchea. Turkey back game, turkey back game
Stretch a four to a nine
Short a million times
f** em when they check up then go flex on
I'm k**in, I'm k**in, Lito
Crayola my cars, free Lil Boosie
Keep the line around the building, got me riding around no ceiling
Riding around with no feelings, if you play with me, I'm k**ing
Make me jump out and get silly, dump out nine millies
f** I'm talkin bout, we got big tools with the trash bags for the chopper shells
Yeah, we ain't missing, but we'll leave you missing
You n***as suspect, you fit the description
I'm looking for a gudda b**h that can get the prescription
I got them hundred dollar quarters, f** with me
One twenty at the twelve, you better have your scale
You a puss, Vagisil, Ma**engill
Your baby mama p**y had that s*ut b**h stashing pills
If I wasn't rapping, be in traffic with them vacuum seal
Pa** it to the pa**enger for your a** get you some daffodil
Riding two K fourteen, five for bout a half a mil
I throw my shows like money off album sales and I don't have a deal
b**h I, b**h I grind hard, ain't much more to the story
This n***a say I owe him but he couldn't be looking for me
Said f** riding foreign cause they're soldiers over there warring
Mr. president, do you at least have some healthcare for him?
I pay more taxes than my next door neighbor
He don't get profiled
So I wake up in a Bugatti, fell asleep in a dope pile
This coke droppin' been going on for eight years straight
Oh thrills charging twelve to my album brick blade, 'ey
Then I, then I dropped my first mixtape
Outer limits, prison pa**in, we was clubbing every day
In the projects all day
Shootin twenty, man whatever
I came a long way, glad I got my sh** together
b**h I grind hard, ain't much more to the story (n***as ain't no k**ers, man)
Y'all n***as ain't no k**ers, man, y'all n***as some hoes
You n***as ain't no k**ers, you n***as some hoes