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Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah I'ma need a background check on you, buddy I ain't playin' no games no more Seen a lot of 99 clones in these streets, motherfucker Yeah, I need a background check (What?) Uh, everybody got a pass but go 'head and give me a sec' I swear to God that bitch a part of Al-Qaeda the way that she comin' for necks Letting the choppa sing like it's Flo Rida now, we gotta hop on a jet Takin' a flight down to ATL, shootin' a movie with Trill, that's a bet Instead I be lookin' like Tom Hanks' son, Chet You ain't even really seen none, yet You ain't even really got a gun, yet Buyin' Chrome Hearts but he still in debt Straight to the chin, I ain't talkin' no clef Zero to five figures like the Jets I go zero to five hundred like a vet Like I'm Le'Veon Bell, I'm runnin' up a check I got thirty on me, I don't play for the Nets I be tearing down her walls like I'm renovating Walked up in Saks and he was hyperventilating He saw the price, his paper disintegrated He talkin' on Twitter, but I do not do debating I'm in the field making plays like Budda Baker Bro, the Clippers now his hair line up on the Lakers She fuckin' with rappers, I don't really wanna take her Letras de cancionesI'm servin' them bars, I ain't talkin' 'bout quaker My diamonds attack, I told 'em get back I'm sippin' on Tris, it used to be yak I'm settin' a blitz, I need me a sack So why you be talkin' that kizzy and cap? You fuckin' with weird hoes, Carol Bask' You stackin' up big pros out the ass He pourin' green lean in a hydro flask Put that shit up in the trash Fuckin' on your bitch, I'ma buy her a lash, or maybe two I got ones with the ball that never shoot Never know who to call, he ran through And my money stand tall, it's 6'2" Catch me shoppin' at Neim', no J Crew Rockin' out with a drum like [?] Want a way to finesse? I got a few From Letras Mania