Lyrics
(Chavo, throw a number)
I ain't gon' lie though
Every Glock is like I'm yeah, bitch
Yeah yeah (Chavo, throw a number)
(That shit bust)
Ladder hanging out of every Glock
It's like I'm Mexican
Better not pull up thinking that you Chavo
We ain't wrestling closet full of geese
Might pop out flyer than a pelican
Gucci on my torso
Bitches say the fabric delicate
Work jumping, finna turn around like a 619
Life crazy, boy, you better not lack
You only get one time
Wockiana, dos or better, no
I can't sip one line
Mike Amiris full of pesos, yeah, bitch
The ripped up kind
Stan always got a hammer, he like Triple H
Pillow talking just to fuck is
A bitch nigga trait
It's enough room to come and eat
Ain't no need to hate
Head that I woke up to this
Morning had me running late
V12, if I punch the gas, bet the whip go zoom
This ain't Smackdown
You knuckle up? We make sticks go boom
Threw a ten ball to my bitch, told her
"Fix yo move"
Buffies on, blowing Glocky, brodie shoot
The stick so cool
Draky put him in a bowtie like he Rick Rude
Getting active
Nineteen hunnid dollar pair of gym shoes
If I lived the life you live
I'd be pissed too splash God
See the water drop when I drip through
Freak bitch was trying to 69
I had to piledrive her
We'd get to sliding like a ball tire
Fucked up Neiman's
Dragging bags at the mall tired
Dog Shit Militia touched more chicken
Than an air fryer
I be scamming
Unky seen more white than a Cracker Barrel
Fuck a Chevy
This a Kitty-Cat zooming past Camaros
Unky play with 'bows, fuck around
Threw his ass an arrow
Spanish mamacita tryna fuck 'cause
I flashed dinero
Masked up like Mick Foley
Fully automatic blicky and I got
Some shit on me
Got a carriage underneath the hood
They tried to get on me
Try to wrestle? Boy, I'm like the Sandman
This stick on me
Better not try to pick on me
Hit him with the ladder, John Morrison
Bitch, don't even mention that lame nigga
I make more than him
It's like they got something to
Prove when I'm recording them
In Miami tripping just like Stan, bitch
I'm with Dorien
Niggas better Donald Duck
The AR got a Mickey in it
I don't give a fuck about that store
If ain't no giffies in it
Buffies got the rosy diamonds
Pendant got the pissy glisten
Funny how y'all baby blew while
I'm counting Nipsey chicken
If it ain't no pape', Booker T
Hit the spinaroonie
At the gallery in Houston
I just spent a slip in Gucci
Every fit twenty-five hunnid, shit
I'm getting bougie dog Shit Militia
High as hell in here twisting dookies
Me and gang got the sample
Shit in a nelson hold
Heard yo team let you go
'cause you broke the code
Had to bring reinforcements
Caught a heavy load
You think you macho, Randy Savage
But I bet you fold
Shit, fuck, damn (Chavo, throw a number)
I ain't even got to say too much
Bitch (Chavo, throw a number)
Yeah, ShittyBoyz, Dog Shit Militia
That's on every song
(Chavo, throw a number)
(Chavo, throw a number)
Better not pull up thinking that you Chavo
We ain't wrestling
Work jumping, finna turn around like a 619
Stan always got a hammer, he like Triple H
This ain't Smackdown
You knuckle up? We make sticks go boom
If it ain't no pape', Booker T
Hit the spinaroonie
WRITERS
James Johnson, Darian Hamlet, Stanley Williams, Reggie Donaldson
PUBLISHERS
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
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LyricIQ Analysis
Top Emotion
Sadness
Sentiment
Theme
Race and ethnicity
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