(Cashmoneyap)
Ayy, ayy

We took a finger off that bitch
For all that typing and shit (all that typing and shit)
My baby mama trippin'
You know she be toxic and shit (she be toxic and shit)
I see 'em hating in my comments
Tell 'em get off my dick (get off my dick)
And for them niggas did me dirty, come back, hit at your shit
You ran when your nigga got popped
Why you ain't shoot back? (why you ain't shoot back?)
I'm EBK for real
Any nigga play get blew back (get blew back)
They know this shit is serious
They tuckin' tails, we at they hat (we at they hat)
We could have got the other one
But my nigga ain't double back
Nigga, blatt

He callin' me off the bitch phone
He tryna see just where I'm at
I'm posted at the crib
I got the 308, it's in my bag
Go outside with this chopper
See a car, then I'ma air it
Bitch, I'm a baby Loc
I never show no fear 'cause I ain't scared
And I'ma have his mama somewhere crying
Singing sad songs (singing sad songs, song)
Put a price up on his head, his toe
I want a tag on it (I put a tag on it)
Me and Tevo might go kill a nigga
Then go brag on it (Then go brag on it)
Up the prices, I'ma go and kill him
Spend your last on it
Voicin' your opinion
But nobody's understanding you (understanding you)
Standin' ten toes on my own
Like a man would do (like a man would do)
When she pop a molly
She eat it up like a vegetable (just like a vegetable)
Ride this dick like Harley, she all in
She grip my testicles (she grip my testicles)
Never say I'm sorry, I say what I meant
I tell the truth (I tell the truth)
Nle the army, got troops that gon' shoot
You front your move (front your move)
My daughter on the way
But I told Blasian have my son, though
I'm shadowed by my past
I just want the sun to shine on me

We took a finger off that bitch
For all that typing and shit (all that typing and shit)
My baby mama trippin'
You know she be toxic and shit (she be toxic and shit)
I see 'em hating in my comments
Tell 'em get off my dick (get off my dick)
And for them niggas did me dirty, come back, hit at your shit
You ran when your nigga got popped
Why you ain't shoot back? (why you ain't shoot back?)
I'm EBK for real
Any nigga play get blew back (get blew back)
They know this shit is serious
They tuckin' tails, we at they hat (we at they hat)
We could have got the other one
But my nigga ain't double back
Nigga, blatt

Ayy, let me talk that rich talk
You know I pop my shit (Pop my shit, nigga)
Fuck the murder talk
Let's talk about the shit I spit (The shit I spit)
Pay for a body and a Sprinter and I don't pay rent
And fuck them niggas shot it up
Tell 'em come do it while I'm in it (Pussy)
Me and my niggas walkin' up
We walk 'em down how we livin' (Brrt, brrt, brrt)
Bitch you just gotta say it's up
We leave 'em drownin' in pity (Brrt, brrt, brrt)
We ain't toleratin' dissin'
We gon' kill 'cross the city (Brrt, brrt, brrt)
And we ain't cappin' when we rappin'
We gon' make sure they feel it
We ain't runnin' from no nigga
'Less they one-time (unless they one-time)
I leave my phone at the crib
When it's crunch time (when it's crunch time)
Extended clip, long on it
Like a lunch line (just like a lunch line)
It's fifty in this AR
Nigga, we a drumline (ayy, we a drumline)
Ayy, bitch, I'm blowin' exotic
But I ain't chillin' with Joe (I ain't chillin' with Joe)
Your Tiger King get took over
And my lions turned poor (and my lions turned poor)
This chopper leave him unbalanced
If he don't stick to the role (he don't stick to the role)
You know we kill 'em in silence
I swear nobody gon' know (grrt, grrt, ayy)

We took a finger off that bitch
For all that typing and shit (all that typing and shit)
My baby mama trippin'
You know she be toxic and shit (she be toxic and shit)
I see 'em hating in my comments
Tell 'em get off my dick (get off my dick)
And for them niggas did me dirty, come back, hit at your shit
You ran when your nigga got popped
Why you ain't shoot back? (why you ain't shoot back?)
I'm EBK for real
Any nigga play get blew back (get blew back)
They know this shit is serious
They tuckin' tails, we at they hat (we at they hat)
We could have got the other one
But my nigga ain't double back
Nigga, blatt

Ayy, ayy, whoa, whoa
Ayy, ayy, whoa, whoa
Ayy, ayy, whoa, whoa
NLE the Top Shotta, whoa, whoa

Copyright: Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Writer(s): Alex Christian Jean Petit, Bryson Lashun Potts, Camren Martin, Nikolas J. Papamitrou