Текст песни
Young Jaz boutta jump in her bag
All you new wack bitches gotta jump to the back
I’m burning bread, burning down American flags
Pumping the mag
This rap shit is up for the grabs
My back to the rope
I got it if they asking for smoke
I want em to choke
I don’t really brag but I gloat
It’s murder she wrote
Every verse is worthy of quotes
I tell him eat it till he taste me in the back of his throat
Cause this ain’t scam money this is pack money
And they don’t know how I got it so they act funny
Old dummy you could never get this bag from me
You could watch it add up I’ll let u do the math for me
Life was that sunny so they started moving shady
Been about money nigga even if it’s rainy
All my bitches getting gully
All my niggas getting crazy
& they’ll leave a opp bloody
Give a fuck about safety bitches hate me
Why ball a fist when you could just pull a trigger
Heat to your chest and I ain’t talking bout liquor
Lift one finger watch these little bitches flicker
Tiny type to satisfy your hunger something like a snicker
Always catch em slippin they ain’t even wearing slippers
We in the same place but I’m a laker you the clippers
