(Verse 1)
Look
We lost fly and got flyier
Spendin cash on E
Polo White T and my Christian Dijon jeans
Those jordan's don't impress me, I hoopin dem chicks
f** fame and the versi's, I'm just tryin to get rich
We lost fly and got flyier
Spent cash all week
Polo White T and my Christian Dior jeans
Those jordan's don't impress me, I'm hoop in them sh**s
f** fame and the Versace, I'm just tryin to get rich
Look I come from the struggle
Errbody rap bro, it's all about your hussle
We only blow strong man we smoking on that muscle
And b**hes ain't real, I don't love you cuz I don't trust you
Uncle Skoot taught me that, I'm just a young n***a
You try to mob man I hope you brought your guns wit cha
My n***as hungry, They be juggin tryna make it out
I'm livin proof that you could stunt and still be in the drought
Just know I'm ridin for my n***as, they won't chalk me out
I'm hittin hoes, I'm hittin stains in my Ferragamo
Tell dem Thots I'm in the city Get a hundred bottles
And I get high everyday cuz we might not see tomorrow
Dem Shells hit you Asap if we got f**in problems
(Hook)
Aye you f**in wit a Young n***a
Versace k**a
Pop dat p**y like a drug girl
Its M-O-B I bang the Mob
We don't do love girl
We just get money, f** dese b**hes and dey homegirls
I'm buyin Fendi
Please forgive me
I'm a young n***a
Versace k**a
Pop dat p**y like a drug girl
Its MOB I bang the Mob
We don't do love girl
We just get money, f** dese b**hes and dey homegirls
I'm buyin Fendi
Please forgive me
(Verse 2)
Look, Aye look that young n***a Rico
One hunnid like a c-note
Control sh** like a remote, Choppers big as D-bol
Beat em down, I shoot cha down
No squares when we come around
We don't blow dem 50 sacks, b**h we smoke it by the pound
Music weed guns loud
Turnin up no turnin down
I just spent your rent on shades, Bet dem b**hes see me now
Errbody on tv, f** fame, lets get rich
Like me rip, that's Hamilton
Got dese hoes naked like Africans
I rolled up dey pop beans
All these hoes be doin dicks, all these thots be f**in tricks
I mean so much, this sh** is sick
Put that b**h on back page
Bought the MOB J's the next day
Don't be mad at her mane cuz she played your a** like 2k
Last week we brought 2k's, been off the drink for 2 days
My OG crib like a gun range
My money fast like mustangs
I'm sippin lean like Pimp C
Runnin sh** like 6 feet
Versace ring on my trigger finger
When I shoot sh** it's still designer
All these hoes want a hot boy, on fire, smoking fire
Man we just some young n***as whose getting rich and getting high
Cross da mob and you meeting God
In the Fendi store like I need it all
WNBA sh**, dey know all my b**hes ball
Girl f** wit Young and I get your life together
I'm a fly mothaf**er, I could prolly change the weather
And I still don't get dress, I just put sh** together
And a skirt is still a skirt, don't give a f** if dat b**h is leather
(Hook x3)