Lyrics

[Verse 1: Blu] Uh, know what it is (yeah, yeah) The tip top of the hip hop or be a rich mob for your clique Think it's tilapia, you're gobblin' up (yeah) Bitch coppers wish they shot us with clips But couldn't stop us at a red light with a stop sign standin' in front of my whip Got a problem, got a revolver to solve it real quick Kickin' ass like combat boots, you steel tips Knock you out like Chris Rock got by Will Smith Real shit, fuck around in that metal will split Dead straight from the ghetto ever since Little kids with the bibs, now we serve beers Tryna get dibs on some pork ribs But they just give us the short stick So we force dick down they throats for that horse shit We're thе fortunes, bigger portions, big cribs and Porsches Wе was broke when we smoked on them porches Poor kids never get a break 'til they get cake And that don't last long 'til we take our hat off when we pray [Verse 2: Heems] Yo, yo, yo, yeah, yeah, yeah, yo, yo, yo Yo, we went from jumpin' off the porches to passin' torches in some Porsches You horseshit, your balls got me snorin', you're borin' Peep my lore kid Yo, I'm somewhere out in Bora Bora, tourin' I'm in the ICU with grips on my socks Duckin' the cops with a grip in my sock Blade in my pocket at the stop and shop Western Beef, see the opps and I drop and pop I'm at the ER, they thought I was an MD Yo, they think they friendly with me I'll empty three on any MP3 You wasn't with me in the MPV, then let me be Veena logo on the invoice heading High thread count on my bedding Yo, I'm an urban legend An Hermès turban legend Prada loafers at my cousin's wedding [Verse 3: Quelle Chris] Yeah Yeah I'ma need every single one of y'all bum-ass rappers to shut the fuck up Get picked up by the bus because you broke I got Deebo shrimp, motherfucker, I picked the bus up Kids need naps, they actin' fussy and flustery Curl 'em up like warm water and pink lusters Bank cards bust, they double as pill crushers Have you feelin' gooey inside like fruit Gushers Niggas love to hate when obviously they love you Duckin' face when they see you like lips puckered Why the hate? When it's hard like Webby tryin' to say Charlamagne We roll with a bunch of bears like Charmin paper Every dollar in the bank only makes me greater If it was only 'bout the love, I'd be a millionaire I got it covered, head to toe like Sicilian hair Heems and clean up, and I'm tryna pull a double dare