120

[Hook]

Shorty hit my line, she call my phone, I don’t got time for her
How can I find the time when I’m so dripped out in designer? huh
Rick Owens be my pants, up on my kicks I’m rockin Prada huh
They told me take a chance, up on my shit, uppin my dollar huh

Count fifty, a hunnit, a hunnit and twenty
Bitch I’m in the section with pockets of money
It’s sticking together like pots full of honey
Might cop me a Tesla the battery runny

The pants was a rack, baby I’m going dummy
I rock Alexander, these niggas look bummy
My chain hanging low, coming down to my tummy
I been popping my shit, so they look at me funny

[Verse]

Okay
Bitch look at my tee, peep my steeze, for’ I take my shirt off
20 bills on my feet, watch your step for’ I kick my dirt off
CutThroat why you material?
Cuz I ain’t had shit
Pull out the blick start blasting
Pop like 1-2 acid
Body go flaccid
Came out the ground no casket

I’m pulling out cheat codes no talking
Look at my moves niggas jocking
They follow what I do cause niggas stalking
If they fucking up my mood I get to flocking
I do a little cleaning with no mop stick
I’m picking up the dirt from when I dropped it
I’m feeling sick and tired, I’m exhausted
Cause I can’t see his vision in my optics

These niggas got empty pockets, empty vessels
Ain’t nobody gon touch my bezels
I write out the script no pencil
I ain’t no cook but I got untensils

She froze when she seen my Pesos
Now I ride around town she gon do what I say so
I’m a demon you could keep your halo
Gotta shoot his ass down with a all black draco

Do you think that I care what you did with that?
A problem, a issue, I handle that
He a bitch so I gave him his handle back
Hollow tips they gon fill up this amo bag
Cuz my brother a shooter go ratatat
If you fuck up the plan you could have it back
Musketeer with the blade he gon have it bad
He could talk all he wants I ain’t having that

[Hook]

Shorty hit my line, she call my phone, I don’t got time for her
How can I find the time when I’m so dripped out in designer? huh
Rick Owens be my pants, up on my kicks I’m rockin Prada huh
They told me take a chance, up on my shit, uppin my dollar huh

Count fifty, a hunnit, a hunnit and twenty
Bitch I’m in the section with pockets of money
It’s sticking together like pots full of honey
Might cop me a Tesla the battery runny

The pants was a rack, baby I’m going dummy
I rock Alexander, these niggas look bummy
My chain hanging low, coming down to my tummy
I been popping my shit, so they look at me funny