Yeah, yeah
And I just got a bag and another bag, yeah, yeah
I just got a bag and another bag, yeah, yeah
Now I’m in my bag and I bet them nikkas…
Petrified, too terrified to testify, you get terrorized
That’s death-defyin’, dissectin’ Godbody parts, can’t be specified
Set on fire, by his dental work, he get identified
His bytch gotta come and verify, the revolution will be televised
I’m ’bout to binge watch, fukk her on Zoom and let her friends watch
That’s that free dope, no cap, no syringe top, killin’ p*ssy, the dikk need tear drops
Tell the opps send a pin drop, I’ll be there in ten tops
Clip full like an inbox, shoot you in your AirPods
I’d like to thank my plug at this time, I cannot forget slime
It’s a thin line, it’s Weezy and Con, catch us on the incline
Up, up in thin air, so high, sometimes my throne feel like a wheelchair
I’m half dead as it is, flag red as it is
Bad breaks or a temper, don’t add weight to my temple
Them bad bytches follow me like a drag race, start your engine
Say you’re in your bag, nikka, your bag’s a smaller fittin’
nikkas scared of me, I’mma cook ’em, who wants some chicken?
War
