​Exactly

[Chorus]
Shooters on my roof, they might get you from a distance (Yeah)
Bitches on my phone, I'm texting them like, "Who is this?" (Like, "Who is this?")
I keep big dope in the pocket of my britches (Of my britches)
Smoking on the gas, man, I swear this shit be hitting
Loesoe going crazy
Jump out the jet (Yeah), like a God damn athlete (Slatt)
Running to all these bands like I'm at a fucking track meet (Track, track, track)
And she could try to lie to me (Yeah), but she won't get it past me (No)
They say, "You think you the shit" and I'm like, "Yeah, exactly" (Yeah, yeah, exactly)

[Verse]
I've got bad hoes, all hoes my type (Yeah)
I told that girl to pack a bag, it's gon' be overnight
We got alcohol and pills (Yeah), I'm coolin' in the hills (The hills)
My money tall like O'Neal (Yeah)
Fucking your bitch, care how you feel (Yeah, yeah)
If you got beef, then you get grilled
She tryna text me, I told her, "Stop that" (No)
And don't hit my phone (Yeah), 'cause I won't call back
I see these hoes changing my bros (Yeah, yeah)
Got a big bag, I'm changing my clothes
She got a best friend, I'm hitting them both (Yeah)
And both them girls belong in Vogue (Let's go, let's go)
Magazine, my gun got a magazine (Boom, boom)
My bitch, she mad at me (Yeah)
My phone ran out of battery
I told her that (No, no)
But she see right through my lies (Yeah)
Spent a hundred bands on my ride
And I just want you to see inside (Yeah, ohh)
I swear to God, I ain't know it'd be like this as a jit (No)
Promethazine my piss (Yeah)
Rosetta Stone my bitch (No)
Spent like ten bands on my fit (Yeah)
And another twenty bands on my wrist (My wrist)
Finna do the money dance on yo' bitch
Spent your little rent money on my kicks (Yeah, yeah)
I know what I want to
Get any girl that I want to (No)
Say that I ain't real, you don't know what the fuck I've gone through (No, no, no)
Been through hell and back for this
Ran up my lil' sack for this (Yeah)
Living how I want 'cause I don't know what's coming after this (No, no)

[Chorus]
Shooters on my roof, they might get you from a distance (Yeah)
Bitches on my phone, I'm texting them like, "Who is this?" (Like, "Who is this?")
I keep big dope in the pocket of my britches (Of my britches)
Smoking on the gas, man, I swear this shit be hitting
Jump out the jet (Yeah), like a God damn athlete (Slatt)
Running to all these bands like I'm at a fucking track meet (Track, track, track)
And she could try to lie to me (Yeah), but she won't get it past me (No)
They say, "You think you the shit" and I'm like, "Yeah, exactly" (Yeah, yeah, exactly)