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[feat. Popcaan] |
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[Intro: Popcaan] |
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This type of *****t happens every day... |
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All dem I'm under, mourn for people, pon stay... |
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But none of them have the guts to pull out and spray... |
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None of them have the guts to pull out and spray... |
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[Hook: Popcaan] |
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I got diamonds on my blocka... |
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Servin' to my flocka... |
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Yeah, that's my flocka... |
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To my flocka... |
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Pray to Lord on my shotta... |
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She be popper... |
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Yeah, that's my flocka... |
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[Verse 1: Travi$ Scott] |
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I'm that Vero Gamma Hussein |
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Tom Crusin', rockin' Vegas |
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In the Garden State, gettin' cake |
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Could've thought I'm Jewish |
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*****, *****, ***** |
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My leisure show from my language |
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Nowadays, *****s been at round tables |
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Talkin' all that heinous language |
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Plutonica, insomnia |
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Put that money on your head |
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Balenciaga yarmulke |
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15 when I carried loads of them Oziums |
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And them bag of nicks, I mean groceries |
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I mean daddy knows ain't no Patron in me |
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My ballad, Scottie might sag |
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She give me head before the ass |
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And never let no *****s smash |
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No puff and no pass |
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We break it if we can get half |
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Thank you for making it last |
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Get everything that you got |
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Break me a piece of that off |
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Rest in peace *****s I lost... |
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[Hook] |
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[Verse 2: Travi$ Scott] |
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Oh God |
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This *****t too cold for the mink, 'Ye |
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Bang, bang, bang, my *****s ain't tame |
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Might bury your ass in that Sphinx, mane |
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Sip Merlot, watch 'em make the champagne rain |
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Let my ding-a-ling hang |
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I'm a south side ***** with a 'cane ring |
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We run it, summers we runnin' |
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Spring and fall jogging be nothing |
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When do they cuff it? |
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Cuffin' 'em up as they lug it |
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The same others, my *****s stuff it |
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Ridin' through |
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Rock it, Shaka Zulu |
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Blocka your whole family, blue |
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Bloody, yes, who-ooh? |
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Ain't you supposed to preach what your practice? |
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Put a rubber on if you stabbin' |
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Get baptized if you 'bout this |
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But ain't it evil to live backwards? |
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Holy Ghost, hold up |
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Shakalu, blocka you, louse |
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That's tongue for you *****s who're lost |
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[Hook] |