(Ayo, Mark A!)

Loose Cannon and WEALTHY shoppin’, I’m in Ferndale
[?] you still scramblin’ tryna [?]
Was loadin’ Bitcoin, always missed the first bell
Winnin’ now, still humble from my first L
Winnin’ now, turned my first L into a lession
Shootin’ down south for that sack like a Houston, Texas
Ten moves ahead, checkmate, catch me Louis steppin’
Time for a third charm, you know Hutch gon’ do the pendant
Cartier’s on, buffed up, bitch, I’m heavy pressin’
Doggy hit the crib f*cked up, blowin’ reggie, stressin’
Who the f*ck your jeweler is? Tuck that petty necklace
Thousand dollar kicks, you see me wit ’em then I bet he stеppin’
I just walk into the booth and tell you how I’m livin’
You a superhеro to the hoes, I’m chillin’ ’round the villains
Thought I lost my mind, was lookin’ for it, then I found some chicken
Lamb’ truck in Cali, catch me playin’ out of town ridiculous
6 of wocky, drop it in a red ruby squirt
Pocket full of pape’, my friends dead like I’m Uzi Vert
Leavin’ [?], I had to up my Gucci shirt
Bitch said three words when she see me, “Ooh, he turnt”
Said four words back like, “Bitch, you kinda ugly”

Heard bein’ broke a joke but I ain’t never find it funny
I just wake my ass up and go and find some money
Fourteen hundred on the kicks, the soles kinda bloody
Charged up, got my bitch cookin’ up like Bulma
Unc’y doin’ turnaround with them “what-you-call-its”
When I was down, they ain’t answer, now they’ll know I’ll never call ’em
Stackin’ up leashes for these hoes ’cause you know I dog ’em
Hit the corner store, you know I got a Everfresh
SB, DSM, bitch, we forever steppin’
Tryna wrestle? I got somethin’ that’s gon’ end the wrestlin’
Pack-A-Punch the AR-15, this a special weapon
I might go OT and never come back
Lil freak bitch, I’m in her walls like a thumbtack
Talkin’ bout, “he upped some dogshit,” he need that one cap
Heard they stuck, can’t relate, I’m finna run laps
Designer bag full of shit, pull it out and act a ass
Late night slidin’, rifle got a flash attached
Fraud guy, walkin’ out of Chase with a bag of cash
I don’t sell weed but when I do, I’m Mr. Tax-His-Ass
Huh, aye, Shitty Boyz
(Hold on, I’m ’bout to come in)
(Ayo, Mark A!)

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