RILL

Wallen on the motherfuckin E-Way

We gon' hit the North, find the trapout

I ain't even tryna talk about it, stop acting like you with it, you don't air out

I need sum mo bottles for these bitches you peep how a young **** finna play out

Run up ya hoe

He say he lit, finna boom at the store

We finna hit us sum mo

New Gucci

I need a baddie to suck on a **** while I drop the top, that's that new boujie

Five bands for a burk, no bitch, I don't work

Do whatever I want, that's that new blue cheese

They gon' do you on me, I got shooters with me

That hold a lot of weight, I need thick groupies

Hold up bitch, don't make noise while you riding

I got the word that a **** was plotting on who the fuck?

Goofy ain't think we was sliding

Bag your bitch on purpose

Yeah, uh-uh, uh, yeah, yeah

I ain't trippin' about no lil bitch I want bands

Shorty gon' fuck 'em with the FN

Countin' all of these bodies that drop in my hand, we gon' handle the opp

Tell 'em bring out his mans, bring in more bitches

I got racks in my pocket, I tell you I'm ready to go ****

I'on think bout a opp

Swear a **** gon' drop

Gang be ready to pop, they gon' go getchu

She be easy my bro 'bout to bag her she beggin' my guyza to buy up some more liquor

She do not give a fuck about her ****

Like a burner, she ready to blow ****

Go far, said I want all the smoke

I want big war, finna get up a milli, invest

I don't think I could hide, I might catch a body, ain't tryna get booked for shooting at his neck

We gon' get it regardless, I put that on god, I got too many reasons I don't need to step

Skeeza

I remember they ain't jack my speaker

I do not mix with nobody

Rent out a Buggatti, He probably don't like me, give that boy a feature

We gon' run up behind 'em ain't checkin ya pockets, I just needa press 'em posting like a female

At the end of the day you ain't stacking no bread

Why the fuck am I beefing with a lil broke boy

I be choking ya hoe like a hoe boy

(Got a whole lot of rest on your toe, boy) All that talk finna dump at his face, new killer

Fuck what they talking 'bout I got 100 bitches I ain't macking with no ****

40 bands up in the back on god, I ain't lacking bitch on my dead got big triggers

Re-up, said the bitch tryna fuck, can I meet her?

I could care less, get a bag, I don't need her

Lord knows, run the bread like a meter

Face, new killer

Fuck what they talking 'bout, I got 100 bitches, I ain't macking with no ****

40 bands up in the back, on god, I ain't lacking bitch on my dead, got big triggers

Re-up said the bitch tryna fuck, can I meet her?

I could care less, get a bag, I don't need her

Lord knows, run the bread like a meter