[Verse 1: A-Wax]
Hold up, you can't tell me no, but tell your friends to do the opposite
Don't tell nobody, but I snuck a pole on board a private jet
Every loaf I see, I think "Why ain't you in my pockets yet?"
Cemetery full of people, ain't respect the politics
I just wanna put it in her mouth, this b*tch too talkative
Them killers, I'ma put 'em on your house until you pop up there
Sometimes I be thinking this twelve burping when my diamonds glare
Found a homie [?] commissary, out
Cheesy rice and ramen for a month or two
I got some opps in jail, better gеt off if you running to 'em
Big 'ol stack of blues, I ain't count 'em, I'm just thumbing through 'еm
sh*t was between us until that drug I sent a bone or two
[?] on that syrup and exotic [?]
If you so supportive of your homies, why you knock 'em then?
If it's really up, what's your location on it then? Drop a pin
b*tch I'm popping ops, not no Xanays or [?]
[Chorus: King Iso]
Drip, check, blick, check
That b*tch, check, I'm getting checks
Drip, check, Blick, check
That b*tch, check, I'm getting checks
Check, check, check, check, check, check, check, check
Check, check, check, check, check check, I run up a
Check, check, check, check, check, check, check, check
Check, check, check, check, check, check
[Verse 2: King Iso]
You can't tell me no b*tch, your best friend would do the opposite
Mask up like a non-obmissive, you don't respect politics
I got two hoes kissing, one on top, other my bottom b*tch
My young boys will turn a ni**a block into the Gaza strip
My guys just walked in the strip club and I bought a b*tch
Swear to God, my drip get big way more than a bottom lip
Bit f*gged off, told her "Hold this L" and gave her a hockey stick
Now back to this Filet Mignon and lobster bisk
ni**a thought he cool with everyone, I told 'em "Box the blick"
Pull up game like abs or a porn site how I pop up quick
Been a shooter since running with a page [?]
Running with that Mac since Macintosh took a floppy disk
That hoe wanna fu*k me while she talking sh*t, aye, aye
Told her "Use the throat and use a lot of spit", aye, aye
All that fake quarterbacking got him blitzed, aye, aye
This ain't football, pack 'em out with soccer kicks
[Chorus: King Iso]
Drip, check, blick, check
That b*tch, check, I'm getting checks
Drip, check, Blick, check
That b*tch, check, I'm getting checks
Check, check, check, check, check, check, check, check
Check, check, check, check, check check, I run up a
Check, check, check, check, check, check, check, check
Check, check, check, check, check, check