Yuk!

[Intro: Trippie Redd]
(Loesoe goin' crazy)
Yeah, hey

[Chorus: Trippie Redd]
Bad bitch get me up, she wanna lick me up
She wanna come and fuck
I got some money, what's up?
I got some racks, what's up?
Pouring my pain in the cup
Putting my opps in the blunt
Heard they was acting tough
You know them MACs is tough, we never backing up

[Verse 1: Trippie Redd]
Chilling with the gang, banging with the gang
Nigga talking shit, they don't want no static, they don't want that flame
My wrist too insane, Richard Mille plain just another day
Ew (Uh), ew (Uh), ew (Uh, uh)
I got too many chains on, but I'm not Mr. T
I got too many rings on, but I'm not TB
She wouldn't even fuck with you, she DTF with me
Know my shooters love to shoot, they spin the block and eat

[Chorus: Trippie Redd]
Bad bitch get me up, she wanna lick me up
She wanna come and fuck
I got some money, what's up?
I got some racks, what's up?
Pouring my pain in the cup
Putting my opps in the blunt
Heard they was acting tough
You know them MACs is tough, we never backing up

[Verse 2: BEAR1BOSS]
(Woah, shh, ha, yeah, huh, huh, what? Woah)
Won't back up, I won't worry 'bout it, this my cup, hmm
I'm having bands on bands, of course
Ba-ba-back of the van on Xans, of course
Bat with my hand, I'm finna scorch it
Hot-Hot-Hotsauce set trends, he do not force it
Ugh, what? Put me on broadway
I'm having fashion, yeah, fortune
Glo-Glo-Glock in the mattress, yeah, torch you
What? Uh-huh, singing like Rod Wave
Most of these hoes are not important
Rich-Richard Mille a house, a mortage
What? Uh-huh, Hotsauce big game
Bad bitch eat me, bad bitch lick me up, ugh

[Chorus: Trippie Redd]
Bad bitch get me up, she wanna lick me up
She wanna come and fuck
I got some money, what's up?
I got some racks, what's up?
Pouring my pain in the cup
Putting my opps in the blunt
Heard they was acting tough
You know them MACs is tough, we never backing up

[Verse 3: ATL Smook]
Yeah, yeah, she wanna come over and stay, she wanna know my name
Bad bitch eat me up, but I can't make her my main
I wake up, I get to the check
Like a fisherman, these diamonds wet
Way too high like I'm boarding a jet
Got them racks in they face, they upset
Had to go get my bag
I got [?] smoke out the bag
I'm a real dripper, Givenchy tags
For that cheese, I hop out with the MAC
I'm having motion
These niggas loafing
I'm something like the hood GOAT
I'm the one that they chosen
I just need a new bag
I don't need no new friends
I'm having road rage
Smashing that new Benz

[Chorus: Trippie Redd]
Bad bitch get me up, she wanna lick me up
She wanna come and fuck
I got some money, what's up?
I got some racks, what's up?
Pouring my pain in the cup
Putting my opps in the blunt
Heard they was acting tough
You know them MACs is tough, we never backing up