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We're not against rap, we're not against rappers (Yeah) No, my bad, I ain't even mean to say that (Greatest rapper alive man, on the mic, man, mic check) But we are against those thugs New phone Yeah Gang, gang Yeah (Yeah) Runnin' out ain't no option Goin' broke ain't even in my thought process Sub that ho, I got a whole roster Let go of my swag like an Eggo waffle Lil' nigga stashin' the baby bottle Got all this shit, didn't pray about it (Nah) No haircut, but the ladies love it (Nah) Do shit, no deal, got the labels salty (Nigga) Still gun tucked, don't stare that hard Lil' nigga, it's a nеw sheriff around Hit the bank, get a bag likе Set It Off Boy, girl, got gas like Chevron Controllin' the bitch like an analog I'm shakin' these bitches like Allen I. (Shakin' these bitches) I ain't datin', these bitches get carry-out (Yeah) Back to street, the bitch chew me and spit me out Could've took the whole world, I ain't even try Girl, ganger my name, but don't wear it out Letras de cancionesIf you ain't got a million dollars, then you can be quiet (Shh) Offer one point five, they better keep bribin' "Why you ain't drop yet?" Man, being honest I'm in the crib with the pints, nigga, detoxin' Stop worryin' 'bout me, get a pee pot I'm double C shoppin', bitch look like Kylie (I swear to God) You know I dress like video, 'fit, I ain't care about it (You know I) Break my heart, rappin' 'bout trap, he ain't pack no heroin Head in my lap, got her fuckin' up her lip gloss Man, I got Techs, I'm embarrassed what the shit cost (Yeah) Niggas ain't me, they just make a lot of diss songs Bitch want a pic with the 7 Mile Chris Brown You know I get fresh as hell, I ain't even gotta go out I know I 'posed to save hip-hop, but I ain't really got time You know I— Ayy, girl, you know I— Yeah, you know I dog 'em, love 'em, fuck 'em, leave 'em, boy, I don't fuckin' need 'em Check out my denim, ain't seen 'em, boy, I'm ahead of season New hundreds in that Goyeezy make married bitches cheaters I know fed agents gon' see me, I got on bright Moncleezy (Frrt, frrt, frrt) I smoke Bubba, ain't no sticks and stems (Yeah) Probably 'cause he study all my songs, we sound similar (Probably 'cause he study) Allergic to these broke-ass niggas, sippin' syrup like Benadryl Fetty Percs, it got him fightin' demons, he ain't did a kill (I swear to God) She is not a bad bitch, every pic, she call an editor I am not no trick, I put a gold digger in the back of hearse Said she wanted a sex tape with the kid, she gotta neck me first Say I did her worser than her ex, but bitch, my last name Worst, you dig? (You ain't heard?) Yeah, you know I— Yeah, what you say, Reef? You know I— I need to get on there You know I dress like video, 'fit, I ain't care about it Break my heart, rappin' 'bout trap, he ain't pack no heroin Yeah From Letras Mania