Motives

[Intro]
Triple that, Grayto
Ayy, ayy, ayy

[Chorus]
I'm like DaBaby, hop on the beat with a trumpet, let 'em know I got it jumping
Sound kinda sneaky, tip-toeing in when I'm creeping, they won't even know how I'm coming
This nigga bogus, how the fuck you got a heater, talking 'bout how you gon' blow it?
That is not you, get that shit out of the booth and try and find another focus
Thumbing through rackades, don't try to come talk to me 'bout a bitch, you knowing there's a back page
I'm having motion, you tryna beef on computers, boy, you better hit that backspace
I got the motives, money-making my agenda, tell them niggas, "Check the fact page"
I ran it up, chuck up the deuce like I'm Hill, all they seeing is the backplate

[Verse]
I'm at the top of my— (Nah)
I'm at the top of my pinnacle (Uh)
I do this shit like it's magic, mystical
Step on these niggas, go up like elliptical
That money you talking 'bout make-believe, mythical
I'm not the type to try to throw subliminals
I see them watching, trying to act invisible
Who think you fooling? Buddy, you an imbecile
Shoutout to Grayto
Yeah, I'm from GA, but not out in Clayco
I'm from a spot where they don't get exposure, but quick to expose you, you better not play, ho
It's full of niggas that's killing and dealing and robbing, you might just get put on a plate, ho
Niggas that pop at your cap with that mo'fucking gat, leave your brain out the cup like it's Play-Doh (Ayy, ayy)
I pass the Glock to my boy 'cause he trained to blow
He pass it back, then I shoot, that's a give-and-go
I'm laying up with your bitch, that's a finger roll
I hit her once, then I'm out, gotta leave her 'lone
I'm not fighting, Shang Tsung, bitch, I'ma take a soul
Stepping like Zion, my foot busting through the sole
Hit up a rat with my hammer like Whack-a-Mole
You got no talent, I see what they passing on

[Chorus]
I'm like DaBaby, hop on the beat with a trumpet, let 'em know I got it jumping
Sound kinda sneaky, tip-toeing in when I'm creeping, they won't even know how I'm coming
This nigga bogus, how the fuck you got a heater, talking 'bout how you gon' blow it?
That is not you, get that shit out of the booth and try and find another focus
Thumbing through rackades, don't try to come talk to me 'bout a bitch, you knowing there's a back page
I'm having motion, you tryna beef on computers, boy, you better hit that backspace
I got the motives, money-making my agenda, tell them niggas, "Check the fact page"
I ran it up, chuck up the deuce like I'm Hill, all they seeing is the backplate