[Verse 1] Fit on fire, breathe easy, Hammer by a half-eaten kiwi. Cruisin’, shawty face on fleeky, She kiss on me like she think I’m Breezy (mwah). Yeah, time to get it on, Whole crew in the club, sippin’ Perignon. Rub on the lamp, summon holy ghosts, Pull a three-five, blow smoke, do the most. Pack burn fast when I spark the flame, Got a cousin geeked up, he don’t play no games. Step to the clique, he gon’ clap ya cap, I’m a money stack-counter, boy, run that back. Name your top five, bet the whip and the crib, Still couldn’t rap how my squad really live. Ball shit, bad bitch, roll in the backseat, Day ones switched, I know exactly where they at, G. Dodgin’ feds when they lurk in the lane, They said your clique spit hard, but we spit harder, mane. [Hook] Ayy, I pull up in a black trenchcoat, Couple bags in the jacket, they don’t see what I tote. Met a lil’ shawty in the bathroom stall, I said chill, baby, yeah, I’m tall. Told her chill, yeah, shorty, I know, Clique layin’ low, movin’ under the radar slow. No service, but we countin’ up more, Better hold tight to your chain, boy—fo’sho. We deep in the city, squad all intact, Stay home, bruh—the pretty boy’s back. (Pretty boy’s back) [Verse 2] Careful, don’t burn yourself, The water hot, like a jacuzzi melt. Dip my toes, still I wish I had— A jet, two flight attendants, couple friends with a pack. Damn, I’m gassed, see the fans in the stands, Say we next up, that’s facts, understand. Culture reborn in the heart of the city, Safe to say we back, come with me. More tunes, ridin’ Uber to a B-plan, She know me from before, I’ll make her bed rock, fam. Good genes, yeah, that’s all in the strands, Her man look generic, like a Tesla brand. Whole squad here, best of the best, Shawties hear us, they showin’ love, no stress. Hands up for the west side, wave to the fam, And east side stand up, yeah, you know who I am. [Hook] Ayy, I pull up in a black trenchcoat, Couple bags in the jacket, they don’t see what I tote. Met a lil’ shawty in the bathroom stall, I said chill, baby, yeah, I’m tall. Told her chill, yeah, shorty, I know, Clique layin’ low, movin’ under the radar slow. No service, but we countin’ up more, Better hold tight to your chain, boy—fo’sho. We deep in the city, squad all intact, Stay home, bruh—the pretty boy’s back. (Pretty boy’s back) [Bridge] Buckle up, yeah, it get dangerous, (Pretty boy’s back) Stick to the code, we don’t change it up, (Pretty boy’s back) Thought you was generous? Nah, bruh, (Pretty boy’s back) Clique don’t split the food, not a crumb for ya. (Pretty boy’s back) What you want, better pay that tax, (Pretty boy’s back) Only stop when I’m dead and gone, facts. (Pretty boy’s back) Cup filled up, and the bar get cracked.
0/500