Aye, all fun and jokes aside, nigga

I need them Nines double entendres, nigga

Them Nines metaphors, niggaI need you to flex and shit on everybody off this verse, nigga

I need that feelin′ when you was handin' out them grills, nigga

I need that feelin′ when you was handin' out them sneakers, nigga

When you had everybody locked in and talkin', nigga

That′s the feelin′ that I need

ASAP

Uh, I just put-, I just put a tonne on the back of a truck (uh)

Me and Midgy should've won the Cannabis Cup

I ain′t put no plaques on my wall yet

By at least five, I'll them packs to your doorstep

In this-, in this music scene, I′m legendary

Raps always been secondary like February

Told my guy, "Don't come near me with no tester" (uh)

(Don′t be talkin' packs 'round Siri and Alexa)

Free the gang, I can′t forget my celly

I was gettin′ letters in the can, like alphabets' spaghetti, uh

All these niggas bite my style

I did "A-Wing′s Got Talent" in jail, I was like Simon Cowell

I was in Cali' ′round the neck like a bow tie

K-K-Kush God, bitch, I'm the most high

I see these rappers actin′ Holly' (uh)

When they were out there crowd-surfing

We were catchin' bodies (who were they?)

I ain′t a tough guy, I always make everybody laugh

I could spit all my bars wearin′ a polygraph

Rap star, still makin' pounds fly

Opps tryna′ turn me to a stray like Ivory from How High

Used to shot ounces

Had a sold out tour, but I still got more fans in my crop houses

I spray up where you're cotchin′

Spend all my money on packs, I was literally weighing up my options

They say their guns spit, they ain't never done shit

Just landed the runtz ′bout to roll up a trumpet, uh

She want a man with P, but that bitch poor

That's why I'm in her crib hiding keys like a jigsaw

Still got food on the curb

(Pull) I pull up with this half moon, I don′t mean "Do not disturb"

Came alone, could′ve brought an army

If I air it out, forensics will have to pick up more men than Lori Harvey

Came a long way from trappin' in the rain

My chicks a side bitch ′cause I'm married to the game, uh

Me and Budz in Dubai on a jetski

(Sold so much coke like I′m rivals with Pepsi)

I used to break these packs down into fractions

These niggas do way too much capping in their captions

I'm tryna leave the game, but I need a lane (uh)

These niggas pree the chain, they don′t see the pain

They sent me jail for importing weed from Spain

I came home in six weeks, released the strain

Still remember reloading on a Q

We got them jungle boys, it ain't Mowgli and Baloo

The CM, wishing they could bring me back

'Cause they still need gangsters like me to point their fingers at, uh

La-, last year I was missing rap

I was on the wing kicking back with my nigga Skrapz

Even though my block′s full of pricks, I ain′t (nah)

And I don't trust bitches even if my chick′s a saint

Paid for my last campaign, label ain't reimbursed me

Smashed her and never picked up ′cah she was thirsty

They just started, I was shipping packs time ago

Trading flavours with all the growers outside my show, uh

This ain't happened ′cause of luck

Fuck your little chain, I spend that shit at Hakkasan on duck

To make it to a kilo, that was the game plan

When I had no nect akh, I was playing Rayman

Used to have a 38 when I was trapping in the snow

Still got it to this day, I even brang it to my show, uh

I can move a hundred keys in less than a week

Driving through the other side like this is Sesame Street, uh (pussies)

Still the same old me even though I'm rich

And it's still gang-gang, I′ll never switch

Yuurd!

Nines, what′s good, niggas?

(Is this the Swifta beat?)