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Woo, yeah Yeah, woo Woo Brrt Look (Machine, bitch) You gotta salute me (Salute me), I'm in rare form I'm back in my Devil's Reject bag, you gotta rebuke me (Huh?) You gotta excuse me, I'm the new Jim Jones, Capo, and Louis Don't fuck around, get shot in your kufi (Boom, boom) I be rockin' this jewelry, lot of supermodels try to seduce me All from the shit that I jotted on loose leaf (Hahahaha) And she gon' bring her friend with her so I get a two-piece I usually got the throttle and the Prada crossbody, I'm Gucci (What's good, nigga?) I had rappers in my section tryna drink up my bottles like groupies Ain't no rapper stoppin' my two-three (Not at all) That's the zone I'm in, I write with a golden pen But lately, I ain't even been writin', I just been goin' in (Go in, nigga) They say the eyes is the windows to the souls of men I know some friends pocket watchin', plottin' on the dough I spend (I know it) No driver license, I drove a Benz Everything I drop an album of the year contender, here I go again (Let's go) Made a few million, I barely announced it (Huh?) Rappin' better than niggas, I can barely pronounce shit (Ha) Gettin' to this position was like scalin' a mountain Now look at me, weighin' money on the scale when I'm countin' (Woo, talk to 'em) Letras de cancionesWe was really whippin' them grams (Huh?) Really gettin' them bands, get my lil' sister a Lamb' I came back to kill these niggas again Lyrics written in Braille, nigga, you gotta feel it to understand So when they say, "Who iller?" I'm like, "Really, nigga? You playin'" You really must be his fan or ain't hearin' the shit I'm sayin' (Hah) Gettin' rich off t-shirts really wasn't the plan But every time I drop, I reel in two hundred grand, nigga (You see the bag, right?) Niggas try blockin' my goals, I'ma make it messy (You see what I did there?) My OG told me, "Gotta kill a nigga you love, do it clean, you don't make it messy" Bells palsy, bitches still say I'm sexy (Hahahaha) Remember I used to go put work in, I would take the Pesci (Huh?) That's what we call the thirty-eights to make sure they respect me (Cap) Correctional facilities can't correct me, nigga (Brrt) Machine, bitch Look (Yeah) From King to a GOD, nigga (Brr, brr, brr) Ah From Letras Mania