Yeah

I got Erv in this bitch, real ninth ward shit

Vulture IslandIf you know, you know (B.loadin)

Yeah, you wan′ tell somebody business?

Tell them how you let me fuck

I don't wanna hear ′bout none of your business

Ain't no Glock involved

My mind so fucked up, I see murders chillin' in the park

Talk on the net, I′ll make my vulture go and flat his heart

Real stepper, he got six toes, he a creature

Project every day, he don′t give no fucks, he tryna lead some

Niggas know what happened 'bout 4-9 when he bleed

Fuck cuffin′ a ho, my bro put niggas on the tee

Killing all the rats, I'm robbin′ all the robbers

I'm a real trapstar from Vulture Island

Alright, don′t move wrong in this bitch, I'm finna shot some

Alright, the way he swing his dreads, you think he rasta

Alright, the Trackhawk start sound like it fire

Alright, I'm cheating with my main ho, right on side of me

Alright, yeah, yeah, lotta money, lotta cars, lotta drugs

Yeah, yeah, niggas talkin′, take his head clean off

Yeah-yeah, molly, molly, yeah-yeah, molly water

Yeah-yeah, drug sex, yeah-yeah, fuck me harder

Yeah-yeah, yeah-yeah, yeah-yeah

Yeah-yeah, yeah-yeah, yeah-yeah

Yeah-yeah, yeah

Yeah, shake that ass bitch, bleed how I bleed

I′m used to puttin' bitches on they knees, nigga

She tryna throw a sign, then throw a V (alright)

You tryna fuck a boss? Then fuck with me (bitch)

Alright, I′m getting to that cheddar, to that cheese, nigga

Did a ten piece in the feds like he a chicken

Cover my face after we fuck, I don't wanna kiss her

And tell the truth, I′m just a product of the trenches

Yeah, I spent a thousand on these sweats, I don't even wanna take them off

I spent a thousand on this pussy, I think I′m gonna fuck her raw

This Burberry hoodie cost me a bag (yeah-yeah)

Yeah, I put her feelings in my lap, nigga

Yeah, I'm comin' straight from out the trap, nigga

Yeah, a piece cost 28

He played, this pussy lame

I′m used to, I′m used to, I'm so, tryna dodge a case

Make that ass clap

Make that ass clap

Make that ass clap

Make that ass clap

It′s the remix

I might trip out on my Finsta, you can't follow me

This ho a G.O.A.T., her nigga don′t know she really for the streets

Ain't too much rappin′, ain't no postin, that's my type of beef

You already tried this shit, and died with it, that′s fine with me, alright

Lost it all before and went and got it back, alright

I got a record deal, but I′m still gettin' active, alright

Them young niggas do drill inside a stolen Trackhawk, alright

If you ain′t got no cash, it's your fault

Real God, she get on her knees, I answer all her prayers

He a fraud, I can go back to the block if all else fail

Real sharp, big homie been taught me how to be a player

New house got an elevator, come from gamblin′ on the stairs

Pack in, they done send so much money for Wham, that shit on backorder

Really on some hunnid Ms a year, shit, I just act normal

Really wanna show 'em how I feel, but I just lay the beat

Young bitch keep a pole, but she don′t strip, she with the fuckery

A lot of niggas know to keep it cordial 'cause they can't fuck with me

Youngins on the bottom of the gutter, I keep a buck on me

Yeah-yeah, she want me to fuck her with no rubber on

Yeah-yeah, I′ma pay whatever to get my brother home

Yeah-yeah, we got all these guns, it ain′t no one of one

Yeah-yeah, we gon' up here and niggas don′t wanna come

Make that ass clap

Make that ass clap

Make that ass clap

Make that ass clap