Leaving the Lot

Gallery Dept. all down to my socks

On a three-level yacht with some bottles of drank

Leavin' the lot on the way to the bank

Leavin' the lot on the way to the bank

Big body smell like a pound of Gelatti

I made a pit stop, put some 'za in my tank

Her Birkin bag hold a Biscotti

My bitch got a natural body, it's not what you think

Switchin' my vehicles, switchin' my lo'

I'm not trickin' on hoes, I'm just tippin' my driver

Find me a plug out of town with the gas, I'ma cop me a bag, set the city on fire

Crossin' the border with Dora Explorer, my cocaine whiter than Lizzie McGuire

Dog in the cell with a miniature Bible

Brodie didn't tell, so I sent him a wire

Cocaine whiter than Jennifer Lawrence, the heroin Michael B. Jordan, it's tan

Eight hundred horses inside of the motor, I pull up on ****, it sound like the Klan

We got a spot in the ceiling where we be hidin' work and the pills, just unscrew the fan

Curbside pickup just like Walmart Shopping Center, thank you, come again

Flippin' the Bentley, got tired of my chauffeur, I gave him a day off of work, get some rest

I need a Drake type of deal at the minimum, hundred M's, we finna purchase a jet

Boss Hogg Outlaw, serve and collect, big 30 on me in a purplish 'Vette

I really got rich off Percocets, I bet Soulja Boy Tell 'Em ain't the first at that

Ridin' in the S65 and it's sixty degrees, I need me a turtleneck

Google myself, I'm worth a check, you can hate on me, but the shit just ain't gon' work

It's gon' be the reverse effect, Maybach rear end, curtains eject

Penthouse high where the turbulence at, you broke, I hear you allergic to racks

I might boat up and go burgundy 'Lac

She say I'm ungrateful 'cause I made her take all the Burberry back

Sippin' on drank, I'm gettin' purposefully fat

My money real neat, it be perfectly stacked

****, you wouldn't wanna walk in my shoes

Or put on my clothes, my shirt is a rack, sellin' blue jeans like we workin' at Saks

Push a new Bentley, I blew out my motor

Servin' my daddy, now I'm a lil' older

Neighbors got mad, they complained 'bout the odor

Rockin' chinchilla, it chill on my shoulders

Save all the shake and pay rent with the overs

The blues go for forty-two in Dakota

Find out she stealin' my money, I'ma choke her

Ridin' in the back of the Benz like Oprah

Gallery Dept. all down to my socks

On a three-level yacht with some bottles of drank

Leavin' the lot on the way to the bank

Leavin' the lot on the way to the bank

Big body smell like a pound of Gelatti

I made a pit stop, put some 'za in my tank

Her Birkin bag hold a Biscotti

My bitch got a natural body, yeah

Every day we can go eat Mr. Chow, sometimes I sit back and just eat me some noodles

Ridin' with the girl and the boy in the back, if the police pull over the car, it's a Uber

Regular in your cigar, it's a hookah, yellow bitch washin' my car with a loofah

Flyin' in a rocket, I doubt they gon' nuke us, ran up my guap and went bought a bazooka (Big Money Missions)