picture me leaning’ waaaaaay back, m5, tints is black, wheels is chrome, and they spinning, ugh, there’s something wrong wit me. street raised bread earner, you know the kid, he takes his. i’m on the block with the grind on, glock stashed in case D’s try to make me, i’m on my marlo stanfield, dee-bo’in the block like who want it. guaranteed ain’t no spoiled cat gone step up to the plate and try to test these rockets. imma brat boi, getting what i want from bitches. gotta knock knee’d shorty, i call her hercules, cause she muscle down my lil man like strong arm. its really not a game how i does this. preprogrammed from birth to rise like yeast nigga.

week one im on my grind, week 2 im on my ceo shit, week 3 im on my bitch smash shit, week 4 i duz what the fucks i want nigga, flip 360 and im on my grind all over again. now go and get my bread and re-up nigga.