(ATL Jacob, ATL Jacob)

I pop out a Rolls set, all baguette
I ain't fuckin' with you, bitch, I think I'm all that (Swerv')
Hit my accountant, gave him six-hundred thousand, all checks
Got like six foreign whips, they all black, they all matte
Fuck her and don't call back
She get stretched, now she stressed, she get wet off a text
She get text just for sex, I don't bap, I don't flex (phew)
Then I'm on to the next, I be gone off the neck (huh)
Hit the phone when it's dead, send her home in a black
Eliante, VVS, ain't no chrome on my neck (you know that)
How he livin' like that? He ain't got no platinum plaques
Swervo pulled up, all Rolls', me and foe'nem, back to back
We them niggas out the 'Raq, rap, but we don't gotta rap

All black whip to blick the MAC, it ain't nothin' to get you whacked
In the studio with Mac, so I might forget to rap
Where I'm from, like Vietnam, most my bitches from the 'Raq
You just good at postin' the guns, never made them bitches clap
Yeah, ain't really ate me nothin' today, but some beans, boy
We ain't gon' tell you that you food, we just gon' eat, boy
Turn me up a little, boy, I can't hear them niggas
You play Malcolm the Middle, then you droppin' with 'em (hmm)
I ain't worried 'bout no fake-ass, lame-ass
Suckin' dick for a deal, gay-ass rapper nigga
Like a birthday cake, you get your face smashed, ASAP
Snipers always first to strike, 'cause I don't like to pay back
At race track, I'm sellin' gas, Charmin, I'm on niggas ass
Brand new 'Rari, bought it cash, totin' a carbon with a flash
I run from bitches, fall in love with me too fast
I don't run from smoke, this shit for sure, go ask the TASK

(ATL Jacob)

Copyright: Universal Music Publishing Group, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Writer(s): Bill K. Kapri, Herbert Wright, Jacob Canady