HE AINT GON DO IT!

[Verse 1: notXxXayne]
Pull my truck up, and if you ain't talkin paper, shut the fuck up
Fuck love, bitch, I got my dub up, got the buzz with the flower bud
'Cause this beat sound like Flower Boy if it's fucked up (Oh)
Got the big game, with the big brain
Feel like slave 'cause I'm whippin' out a big chain
Penny, dollars, and commas, the shit I been made
Happy that I kill a nigga, bitch, I'm insane, like—
All this paper, li'l momma, I'ma come towards
She'll be happy when I get my name up on the top boards
And if you talk about my name, you can suck my cock, whore
If this song is fire, you know that you can let it drop low
Got that money, I got this more
Got the ice, I got heat, 'cause I'm this cold
That boy steppin up to me, oh, you this bold?
When he jackin' off to hentai on the Discord
Oh, Lord, nigga, are you this dumb? Are you this low?
Furry helmet on his head, are you this slow?
I-I'ma lay it on this bed, go to sleep, ho
Clean a nigga good like he mo'fuckin' dish soap
Uh, I'ma hit a nigga with my semi-pistol
Like it's Arizona, you know that I'ma sizzle
Got that minty fresh chain like it's fuckin' Listo
You know what I miss, though?
Hit the fuckin bass like I'm Chris, ho

[Chorus: notXxXayne]
He ain't gon' do it
Look at how a nigga ran up, you a loser
Nigga got hella shit to talk on computer
I might have to hit that li'l nigga with the Ruger
You know I'ma do it, bitch, I'ma call up my shooter
I got that dollar-dollar product, you know that I be bougee
Y'all got me feelin' like POODEE, bitch, I'ma make me a movie
And all y'all other niggas suck and y'all smelin' like dookie
And na-da-na-da, bitch I—

[Verse 2: ThaMonster]
I don't need a loud voice
And if you not talkin' money, then shut yo' mouth boy
I came from stamps and scraps, now I make bands and raps
You buggin', so you gotta get some pesticides
To get away from all the feds and rats
Killin' 'em all, ain't passin' the ball
Professor, how I handle the bars, they starin' in awe
And I'm an artist, they all cap like what I got from golf
I'm cuttin' rappers' hand off, make 'em look so gothic
Can't score like me, we the MVPs
And other ones are just talkin' about us and hoppin' on our Ds
He think, she think, they think, we don't care
We makin' 'em say farewell to their welfare
I feel like Melo with the 91 points, I—
They know the boy, I know they hear the voice, huh
You can't escape from me, you don't have any choice, uh
You Tyler-like puppets, I'm just playin' with you boys, I said—

[Verse 3: notXxXayne]
Who that boy? Nigga, who that nigga
With potential that's gon' hit the fuckin' charts?
Who that nigga? Nigga, who that boy
That's gon' smoke this nigga like some fuckin' carts?
I said, who that nigga in the back of bus
Smokin' hella gas like he Rosa Parks?
Got the chamber pocket like the Holocaust
But the gas in this bitch smell like donkey farts
I said—

[Chorus: notXxXayne]
He ain't gon' do it
Look at how a nigga ran up, you a loser
Nigga got hella shit to talk on computer
I might have to hit that li'l nigga with the Ruger
You know I'ma do it, bitch, I'ma call up my shooter
I got that dollar-dollar product, you know that I be bougee
Y'all got me feelin' like POODEE, bitch, I'ma make me a movie
And all y'all other niggas suck and y'all smelin' like dookie
And na-da-na-da, bitch I—