Trifecta

[Verse 1: Boldy James, 50 Gwuap Taj, Dave Hill]
Turnt the fuck up, burnt the fuck out, swervin' off a fuckin' burnout
Cup is purple as a turnip, pull up, serve you, then I skirt out
Got some fire in the presser, I'm just waitin' on the turnout
Work I got speak for itself, like I can barely get the word out
Woke the fuck up, got the fuck out, grabbed the slugger out the dugout
In my lane, don't hit a blinker, make a turn, see how it turn out
Fucked around and threw a roach out, pullin' out my brother Turp house
Dumpin' cookies like I'm burned out, I'm the reason L.A. burned down
For the guys, I pour the syrup out, duck and dodge in front of jump out
Trap forever, I prefer not, Glock tucked, that's why my shirt out
By northwest and turn left by Vermont, Nextel, and they was lettin' it chirp out
James Cole, they was lettin' that hearse out, tell him, "Crash" and I bet he'll swerve out
In and out, left a nest at the bird house, third block on the left is the first house
Every play is a first down, when I get a new bag and I ditch the workout
That nigga ran off, he in the church now, drunk rose, bring the Vert out
Bitch, she turnt up, really turned down with her garbage pussy and her dirt mouth

[Chorus: Boldy James, 50 Gwuap Taj, Dave Hill]
Lemon-yellow Lamborghinis, skatin' Kristi Yamaguchi
Shooters lookin' for a leadin' role, we 'bout to drop a movie
Big shifter, turn to tan cream, hit a Michigan uey
In the kitchen mixin' Scooby, kick-flippin' like I'm Tunechi
.27 after I check the deucey, bust your head
If you fuckin' with my brother Mooch, somethin' like I'm Lil Meechie
It broke my heart that that bitch fuck with goofies, is she stupid?
Now I'm chipped up like it's bingo, thumbin' through a dub of blueys

[Verse 2: Boldy James, 50 Gwuap Taj, Dave Hill]
Ten bricks of that Primo, I been pinchin' like a jingle
If I send him, Rip Van Winkle, he gon' chip you like a Pringle
Don't pretend it's a hit single, he gon' hit it with a needle
I'ma hit it for my people, a gorilla when it's needed
I want marble on my countertops, cathedral on my ceilings
And merceau in a deposit box, an iron just to crease it
Hundred thousand on two pieces, I ain't tryna ride no leases
Windows tinted five-percent, but my Sprite look kinda pinkish
I'm movin' slow, they want the speed, sip my cup and roll some weed
I tripled up then poured a three, I'm skirtin' off, pull up low-key
Gelato-scented potpourri, extra plated overeat
Salaam alaikum 'bout the bacon, hit his egg, it's over easy
Put his face all on the tee, he left the ghetto oh and three
Did it with no skis, so niggas can't help but to notice me
Find a new spot, take it over, let me hold the key
Ridin' dirty but the work clean, I got OCD

[Chorus: Boldy James, 50 Gwuap Taj, Dave Hill]
Lemon-yellow Lamborghinis, skatin' Kristi Yamaguchi
Shooters lookin' for a leadin' role, we 'bout to drop a movie
Big shifter, turn to tan cream, hit a Michigan uey
In the kitchen mixin' Scooby, kick-flippin' like I'm Tunechi
.27 after I check the deucey, bust your head
If you fuckin' with my brother Mooch, somethin' like I'm Lil Meechie
It broke my heart that that bitch fuck with goofies, is she stupid?
Now I'm chipped up like it's bingo, thumbin' through a dub of blueys