[Intro: J.I.D.]
Yeah, kamikaze, um, kamikaze, um
[Verse 1: J.I.D]
Kamikaze caramel covered karma on the tip of my taste buds
Tip of the iceberg, tip to the waitress
Tip on your toes mama, don't trip on the mink rug
That's a lil mud, mama don't trip on that pink stuff
That's a lil p**y baby, don't trip on the pink stuff
I'm just tryna hit it once, no reason to break up
She look at me like: "This n***a don't think when he say stuff"
f**in' right, and that's probably the root to my problems
'Member I told you 'bout that time we almost got shot up
They came from the back of the back, and plot to come rob us
The funny thing with that, them n***as robbin' the robbers
My homie lost a stack, I lost like forty-one dollars
I said, "Both you n***as wackin' if I see you Charlotte"
He held a gun to my neck, I don't why he ain't wile out
Brocka-rocka, call my brother like them just k**ed Blocka
But no nada, I quote shotta's
Haha, gwala in my pocket, b**h I'm ballin', Prince Ali Ababwa
Bwoy-bwoy life s**s on the other end of the blocka
We dodge them shots from the other end of the block
It's no end runnin' from n***as and cops
Damn
[Verse 2: Pouya]
I been through the worst, I should've been inside that hearse
The mo' I stack my paper tall, the mo' they want me in the dirt
Six feet under, these woman make me wonder
Would you still want my number? If that Roley wasn't under your budget
I'll never know who really got the best intentions for me
So I keep my circle tight and I got that Glock in my reach
Without a question, see me runnin' to the check, no second guesses
Smith and Wesson if they steppin' out of line (b**h)
What's on your mind lil b**h? I ain't got no time for this
Back and forth, mumblin' under your breath, just tell me what the f**in' problem is
These problematic b**hes always want the finer things
But you ain't fine enough to get your finders fee
She want to squash, she want to [?], that's fine with me, finally
f**in' hoes I thought I only see inside my fantasies
That phantom ghost inspire me to do the most
That Honda Civic made me hungry for some foreign motors
Upgraded to the Porsche before I drank my Folgers
Pour that 40 on the soil for my fallen soldiers
Pour that 40 on the soil for my dead hope
Never going back in time, never gon' be dead broke (b**h)