Lyrics

[Intro: DJ Drama] You n*s gon' learn today D4 YMCMB, n* [Verse 1] Ugh, hammer on the dresser, work on the stove I'm sitting on the counter blowing purp out my nose Red bone naked, in the bed flexin' I say, bitch, I ain't impressed you must've got the wrong impression, ugh I ain't with the BS, I'm flyer than PF Man, we living in hell like a deep breath Real niggas with real money, real bitches with fake asses If she don't wanna fuck, I get on my skateboard and I skate past her Money on the table, guns on the table Bitch, I'm on that syrup, tell that ho leggo my Eggo And my girlfriend is a chopper, I finger-fuck that ho Hello I am Tunechi: you had me at "hello," ugh Drop-top Maybach, clean like Ajax Man, I don't fuck with none of you niggas, like rednecks We got that work so come and get if we dont know you, you pay tax I put a hole in your apple—what that is? Apple Jacks, ugh Pussy nigga, I'll murder you, then dance at your funeral Blood, I'll have a nigga drinking his own blood: communion Wake up like Bone Thugs, I'll call your bluff pick the phone up Her titties fake, but they look real: cubic zirconias Run up in your house, spare the kids and kill the grown-ups Your bitch call me when she hot: Krispy Kreme doughnuts Shoutout to my new hoes, shoutout to my old hoes I still wear that ass out like a wardrobe [Chorus] Bitch, what they gonna say? Still eating rappers on my fucking lunch break Bad yellow bitch with a tongue like a snake I let her suck my dick and then I fuck her to some Drake And then I let that kush burn, let that kush burn Yeah I let that kush burn, smoking gasoline, bitch The booth on fire, I'm in here getting higher Young Money, bitch, we at the top like barbed wire, ugh [Verse 2] Money on my mind I ain't thinking 'bout no bitch I'm talking bout that scratch like my muhfuckin throat itch, ugh Stop stuntin'—if you ballin', buy your bitch somethin' Stayed on the same team like Tim Duncan Shit get real—if you're scared, go to Catholic school And if we want it, straight jack it, like a padded room Shoot your ass a hundred times and stand over you Lil' Tunechi so fly I got arachnophobia Burn bitch, AK in my firm grip Leap if you feeling like Kermit, sermons Preach reach and I smoke your ass like Cheech I be faded like bleach; double-barrel: Siamese I like my Swisher obese; fuck that bitch, like police Fuck these haters with no grease; you get chin-checked: goatee Money talks, bitch, and mine talks like Robin Leach That lean got me slow as Lisa Turtle—ask Screech, ugh Bank card heavy, my wallet like a barbell My girl got a fat cat: I call that shit "Garfield" We'll bring the O.K. Corral to your doorbell We pull triggers not coattails, I make lump sums: oatmeal I'm stuntin', getting new money Trukfit money, Mountain Dew money, tell 'em I get better like fine wine, I'm fire like cayenne In the words of my nigga BP, "I'll hit a bitch with a car bomb—boom!" [Chorus] Lil' bitch Niggas gonna talk they ain't talking bout shit Niggas gonna bark I go Mike Vick Fuckin' fuck niggas on that fuck shit Suck a nigga dick for some Trukfit And let that kush burn, let that kush burn Yeah I let that kush burn, smoking gasoline, bitch The booth on fire, I'm in here getting higher Holla at a nigga if you want that Oscar Mayer—Tune! [Outro] Hahaha Dedication 4 Meek, Sean—fuck with me!