Bet It

Lyrics

[Intro] Yeah, turn me up Check, check, check Huh, ayo, player What we on, gang? Yeah, c'mon [Chorus] Whole lot of cash in the spot, I don't care 'bout these people My lil' bitch she a ten out of ten, fuck her friend on the side but I can't, shit equal [Verse 1] Thumbin' hunnids again and again, she like, "Damn, lil' nigga, you should make a sequel" I put M and some more on that head, know that beef shit dead, nigga's dead when I see him Hop in AMG whip, takin' off in a NASCAR, she in this motherfucker speedin' When we pull up, we ain't breakin' you off, niggas get it in blood, I ain't callin' it еven And I'm so in my bag, call shit, put 3 grams in my blunt, really fightin' my demons That's a hold in my pass, on businеss, niggas fake as a bitch, it's so easy to read it (C'mon) [Bridge] Huh, bet it Huh, go Huh, bet it Huh, c'mon [Verse 2] V8, I fucked up the engine Fuck a co-sign, give a fuck 'bout a mention, bitch Two-door the whip, I get messy, bitch That nigga Dominic Fike, shit, rich Chrome Heart, drop out the picket Popeyes, I get straight to the chicken Locked eye with that bitch, now she spinnin' Top five, lil' bitch, I been in it Ride around, Scat Pack when I'm sinnin' I'm too turnt up, I admit it That ain't my bitch, she don't know any better (C'mon) I just poured a four in my seltzer I'm searchin' for opps and my pole got a sensor (Let do it) I'm really enjoyin' the neck Put a drop through the motherfuckin' floor and the ceiling, I'm on I hop out the foreign, lil' bitch, I got rich and I went Rick Owen on my sweats, it's the long ones She think I'm ignorin' the answer, I'm really just not, I don't fuck with this pill, I'm a stoner Y'all niggas too stuck in the past, every pair of Rick Owen boots you get, I already own 'em (Yeah, turn me up) I done got rich, I ain't need no motherfuckin' diploma Said it is what it is, she gon' drink up my kids and I sent her ass back to her mama We was still thumbin' but look at me now, goin' 'round, my money longer Need to pay me, yeah, just for a convo A-a-ain't 'bout guala, I'm hangin' the phone up Ridin' 'round in that new Forgiato's Broke ass nigga, you might as well own up I been doublin' just like a Bronco Brother got a pack, he finna throw some I'm in love with that cheese like a nacho Bring me that shit, need it pronto Said I want all the smoke, bitch, where the fronto? Roll up a spliff, go to sleep, nigga, Jon Jones I-I-I got this bih' from Toronto She try to pull up, I play like I'm not home Huh, pullin' up, it's so shockin' Not talkin' 6 but I swear that his top gone Huh, she tryna eat me like broccoli, I took a swing on that ass like it's Top Golf Huh, he tryna be with my opps 'cause his lil' bih' choosin' on me, how that's my fault? (Nah, for real though) [Chorus] W-w-whole lot of cash in the spot, I don't care 'bout these people My lil' bitch she a ten out of ten, fuck her friend on the side but I can't, shit equal [Outro] Blatt, blatt, blatt, blatt, blatt