Trapping out the mother****ing honda, Only got $5 to my name, Got a whole lot of weed in the backseat just axe me if u needing an exchange, I don't like to talk about my business, But you bitches started acting out ya lane, Keep my name out ya mouth lil' stank ass hoe still talking bout me from the 9th grade, My name still on ya tongue cause this dick wasss, I ain't stressing, Hopping in the back of a blacked out Lexus 3 deep, 4 deep, 5 deep, 7, Throwing up shot like im Stephen Bad bitches on my line i don't feel like texting, back Got a girl and she fine like Janet, Jackson And she smoke pack like a rapper Smokin' on that Florida Pack, Pourin' up lines like a Slatt, Got a couple 40's in my backpack finna go hit up the plug for the gas, (Aye) Living like I never look back last summer I was ****ed up working on my album undercover, Now they all on my dick trynna figure out where im at, Really ive been chilling with my dogs, Trynna hold it all down for the pack, (Yessir) On my knees praying to the Lord, I wont ever have to use me a strap, (Aye, Aye) The future not looking too bright, Seein' Satan lurking round every corner, So I gotta give God my life, In the hopes that he can end this tourture, I aint really rapping for the money, (I ain't really rappin for the money) I aint really rapping for the fame, (I aint really rappin for the fame) I aint really rapping for the bitches, (I aint rappin for em) Got a girl and she want my last name, (She Do) I aint really rapping for you fake ass bitches poppin' pussy for the motha****in' fame, (Nah) Yall just trynna make cash, Really im just trynna make change, Putting all the work in now, while the clocks still tickin', Ive been finding my sound Up till 3 AM writing out lyrics trynna channel my spirit in the music that im finna put out, Yall aint ready for the king when I get my crown there'll be no more fallacies coming out your mouth, No more lies no, no bitching, all facts, no fiction, just grinding from this point out.