Outro

Young Jaz boutta jump in her bag All you new wack bitches gotta jump to the back I’m burning bread, burning down American flags Pumping the mag This rap shit is up for the grabs My back to the rope I got it if they asking for smoke I want em to choke I don’t really brag but I gloat It’s murder she wrote Every verse is worthy of quotes I tell him eat it till he taste me in the back of his throat Cause this ain’t scam money this is pack money And they don’t know how I got it so they act funny Old dummy you could never get this bag from me You could watch it add up I’ll let u do the math for me Life was that sunny so they started moving shady Been about money nigga even if it’s rainy All my bitches getting gully All my niggas getting crazy & they’ll leave a opp bloody Give a fuck about safety bitches hate me Why ball a fist when you could just pull a trigger Heat to your chest and I ain’t talking bout liquor Lift one finger watch these little bitches flicker Tiny type to satisfy your hunger something like a snicker Always catch em slippin they ain’t even wearing slippers We in the same place but I’m a laker you the clippers