Let the band play

YeahAll I need is one scale, a couple bales, came in this shit by myself

Dolph, why you fuck his girl? Uh, shit, ′cause I'm a player

Quarterback, no NFL, drippy in Chanel (Drippy)

Playin′ hide and go seek in the mansion with my lil' girl (Aria)

Elevator was too crowded, so I took the stairs

The whole industry was hatin', so now I give ′em hell

Business man, I invest a whole million in the mail

Yeah (yeah), yeah (yeah), yeah (yeah), yeah

I-I-I treat bitches like some shoes, I cop ′em by the pairs

She like when I grab her neck and pull her by her hair

In my city, I'm more important than the fuckin′ mayor

Ten years straight, I set the prices on the kush, I swear

I got your bitch lookin' for Flippa (where he at?)

I let her ride like a bicycle

I pulled out and bust on her dimples

Quarter milli′ for this Richard

I had to run up them digits (run it up)

Niggas know that I'm the sickest (for real)

Bitches know that I′m the littest

Whip my dick out and piss on your feelings

I heard that lil' nigga from Memphis

I heard he used to trap in Fendi

I heard he went to jail in a Bentley

Straps with me in New York City

Lil' black nigga with all this fuckin′ paper on me, man

What the fuck they mean, man?

I can′t go out like that, huh, hold up

Bangin' L′s, swangin' scales (what?)

Shakin′, got residue in my nails (what?)

Started gettin' real money, we bustin′ bales

Everybody on the floor know the smell, uh

Dropped out of high school

Had to start bringin' my Glock, couldn't show and tell, uh

Big bro got life in the feds

Can′t talk on the phone, but he know his will

Walked out the trap with a big ol′ bag

'Til I pop in the house, I was on the sale

We was sinnin′ on Sunday, that bitch in my hand

But I'm sinnin′ in my head, know I'm gon′ prevail, uh

If I call her house phone

Tell her bring that bitch out cocked, then my mama will

I was eighteen, my OG seen me hop out the Benz or a Bonneville

I bought a mansion

Pop in that bitch fresh off a shootout, I'm hot as hell

Shh, you gon' do some time, niggas probably tell

Fuck it, this lifestyle, know I probably will

I′m in New York with my nigga Dolph

He rockin′ wop, but his neck on Gabbana still

I'm rockin′ Christian Dior with a bag full of blues

All black but it's Prada still (swerve)

I′m in the 'Raq, Benihana, don′t eat at Hamada

See opp, he get probably killed

Told lil' bro come out with me in Bally

Get out the 'Raq, he might come near, catch a body still

I′ll pull up on your home in a Lam′ smokin' out a sack

Arch her back, disappear, artifact

I ain′t comin' with shit but my pipe and a box of mags

Twenty on me, that′s my starter pack

Gettin' too much money, we ain′t tryna make arch-rivals

You know we spark ride

I was outside and that's the reason we won battles

Nigga, we weren't part-time

Got a youngin, he only send straight at you

You ain′t never heard that snake rap?

On a nigga head, then we just can′t catch you

Spin twice, mad as fuck, we went straight past you

Ever tried to kill a nigga just 'cause you had to?

Leanin′ up in the clubhouse like Rascal

Everybody rich as fuck, ain't nothin′ past due

I could go grab a M from my mama pad too

Let me see what you gon' do, we could team-tag two

Oh, you ain′t with the shit, have somebody blast you

Kel-Tec on my lap, if God bless you, I tag you

Have you fillin' the bag with your fast food (pussy)