1209
(What it do, 30?)

One false move, you a goner
We was maskin' up before Corona
Young nigga hangin' out the Bentley
While I'm swing around the corner
Paper tag this is not a loaner
Drug dealer, this one for the owners
This ain't for the leasers
Tom Ford loafers, you could never tie my sneakers
Put her on the block list, I'm like, "Bye Felicia"
I be on the island with a Spanish mamacita
And shorty she be wildin', it's no way that I'ma eat her
Fuck her, I don't feed her, I just fuck her, I don't need her
I'm like, "We just tryna win shit"
Glock fourth gen shit, clear clip extend shit
Don't fear shit, we been shit
Two friends kissin' on the yacht, that's like a friendship
New Benz, when we hit they block, we spinnin' they shit
We be ridin' bulletproof, 'cause we be really in shit
He was ridin' bulletproof, we shot it 'til we flipped it
Nigga, I was sturdy back when I was dirty
Started with an ounce, had twenty million by the time I'm thirty
I was in and out deep in that field where niggas die by thirty
Hangin' with the killers playin' "Bye Bye Birdie", ya' dig?
Condo in Tribeca, got my mom in Jersey
I wish death on anything that threaten me or try to hurt me
I was rich as fuck, ain't play my cell, I'm out here bright and early
Workout with the lifers doin' a thousand burpees, you dig?
Plain Jane Richie, five-hundred-eighty Benz
Shit expensive, gotta watch the way you shake my hand
I make the Richie match the Virgil, I just changed the band
They killed my daddy, I was five and I got made a man

Copyright: Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Writer(s): Robert Rihmeek Williams, Samuel Gloade