We cuttin' through the Bronx
Home runnin', think we with the Yankees
Raw paper, championship ring, I got it on my pinky
If you don't see Luh Tyler, and that Kosher, n**a quite frankly
Trap went and ran them racks up, he just went dressin' janky
I'm in the booth, me and trap on that gas, man this shit stanky
Got your b**h in here, and she throwin' ass, she keep sayin' "Spank me''
See, these niggas they ain't tryna get no bag, don't know what they thinkin'
n**a, I ain't tryna make no friendships 'cause they get to sinkin'
Hoppin' out on feet, passion pit, I take a walk
Machine gun stays by my side like I'm Megan Fox
Them boys playing air guitar, b**h, I really rock