Fifty Fifth (feat. Die Rich)

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Racks Ina Rental

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MCM Bookbag with the Drake in it
Drop a hunnid outta striker and the plates missin
Bitch I need a retwist I'm bout to bait bitches
650 on some tennis shoes and I don't play tennis
Trap house full of bows and ain't no pots and pans

Automatic ARP sound like I dropped a fan
You don't sell dope boy you use dope you done copped the gram
I just met a bitch that fucked up her account and we got some bands
Trap house I've been saving paper I ain't littering

I was passing out beans and these bitches got the scissoring
Fn hit him with a blue tip he kept it fifty-fifty
I just bust a vacuum seal she like I don't like the stench of it
I shoot at an intruder chopper knock him off the premises

Let me get the login to your chase I drop a ten in it
I'm still in the trenches but I'm dressing like an immigrant
Tinted sipping dirty and I'm tryna get filthy rich
Bitch I'm ridin with a bookbag full of bows

Catch a plane hit the road I got a bookbag full of pros
Mix it with a zip of zah the rest of that bow was some lows
Bitch I'ma spend it on a re up how you buyin pics of toes
Come and grab a couple yerks might give you one for free

Bitch I'm dyin' rich I know you see the cash clan on my tee
I don't look up to nobody money what I'm tryna be
And if them tickets gettin lower then I'm grabbin more than three
Bitch I'm a wood smoker backhand you tryna pass a game

Bitch I'm a bow slapper compositional we are not the same
Bitch you ain't bout to play with me cause I am really not a lame
And I might do this shit foreve rrun this shit like Major Payne
I don't f*ck with Michael Myers keep a blicky not a knife

Bitch you got some pay for me but I can't cuff you not a wife
Brody ain't worried bout no money he might run off with a life
And I ain't worried bout these bitches smellin funny and they tripe
Yo me and Smoke back at it with racks I can't bullshit

How you ridin round with eight bullets need a full clip
I won't feed a ho she everything but a full bitch
Popped another yurty damn I think I feel a new itch
I'm a perc addict nigga I think I need a full script

Not for real I just pop two back to back no bullshit
Baby askin' for a ride told her the bus comin
If you think we ain't got it boy you know we all clutchin
Oh you keep your blicky nigga he let off somethin

Baby drippin in the Fendi yeah she boss bumin
You the type of nigga to bring a knife to a gun
AR got attachment got scopes and got flashlights
Let's get to tape bring his ass upstairs

Tell me where the safe is nigga don't act scared
Ain't no time to talk nigga all I see is red
Ain't no one in shots nigga tell me where the bread
ARP Tracer Darts nigga no bases

I'm slicin dicin bitch I'm triflin gruesome no Jason
F6 two shots I'll give him a face
You better think twice bout your next move before you take it

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