[Intro]
Who the fuck told these hoes that they could spit?
It's kind of funny tho
Like they really think they be spitting jigg
Look I'm finna go in one time
Okay

[Verse 1]
Swear I need about 6 figures
Take your money like young n***as
Rap bitches ain't making moves
They might as well just take a picture
Might as well keep on the flash
These hoes can't even see me
I tell yo bitch to salute the cash
My shits official like Chief Keef

Cooling out for my youngins'
That pack reeking like onions
How many hoes up on my dick
Stop counting at 3hunna
Don't count it up I just write checks
No rodeo but I ride necks
See I get with that rugrat
That random brain call it tough brats
Check it
I ain't no judger
These hoes can't tell me nothing
Ain't worried bout no twitter diss
I'm tryna fan you in public
Fan yo ass on Fox News
Fanned you missing like Blues Clues
Have my bros go chain your mom
I say the word like "chu chu"

And yeah she's a gunna
These n***as pussy chu' wanna
These fuck n***as tryna blend in
I call they ass Iguanas
I pop off like gunfire
Call you out like an umpire
Tell these hoes to catch up
They moving slow like limewire
Moving slow but don't make the feds
Rush the door ain't let us in
Hit the floor that n***a dead
It's a bake sell cause taking bread
This summer is not a game
I'm bringing some heat
No swisher but don't be blunt
All these hoes weak
Get your bars up
Better get yo game tight
Like you ain't pay the field
Bitch I'm bout to take the life
Get yo paper up and maybe we can talk
No discount but best believe
N***a I'm taking off
[Outro]
Thats it
These hoes already know what it is
Tink G
Lets get it, lets get it
I ain't even gotta say too much