(Aviator)
These ain't no Guess jeans
I dropped out of school, I'm still good at math, but, nigga, don't test me
I played to the left, they went to the right, they tried to finesse me
Still riding 'round with that blicky, I hope they don't catch me
Police had raided our spot, so we went to the next street
Play like I'm dumb, as soon as it pop, I'm goin' retarded
He say I'm hard and he say I'm garbage, I'm rich regardless
We in Miami in the middle of the winter, and we on them jet skis
If we in Atlanta, I'm runnin' the 'Cat and I'm workin' the red key
I cannot mention my homies inside of my song 'cause I know they be trappin' a lot
I can't keep takin' these pills, when I'm in the trenches, they say I be cappin' a lot
I know a nigga who say he got rich off the dope, but I know he be actin' a lot
I know some niggas who said that they took down the city, but niggas be lackin' a lot
Yeah
That shit was awful, nigga had that dog food
That day they shot you, I slid on a Mongoose
You cannot come back around me, you turned your back on me, I cannot forget
The police was lyin', they say that they caught you, but nigga, they made you admit
Your name was found, you put in that work, they took your stick, you a bitch
Fuck my opps, they be on my dick, they all be mad we rich (Turn up)
Only twenty-five, livin' like a boss, ridin' 'round with a chauffeur
I don't sell drugs, still be paranoid, keep lookin' over my shoulder
Niggas lyin' like I'm stealin' swag, boy, that's my shit like I wrote it
Uh
These rappers really nice as hell
I'm a different nigga when I'm pissed off
Man, he say he gon' press up on who?
I'ma get the steel like I'm Chris Paul
Back to back suburbans, I'm a big dawg
I was in the slums servin' Fentanyl
Zombieland, junkies havin' withdrawals
I been gettin' to it, lotta missed calls
Turn it off, what the fuck is he talking 'bout?
I should slap you for sayin' he hot as me
I don't know who could fuck with me honestly
They know I'm the man, so they watchin' me
Different color bands like Monopoly
Man, he must not be usin' his head
If he thinkin' I don't keep a Glock with me
That's like suicide if you play with us
Got a better chance at the lottery
Call an ambulance when that chopper sweep
Make the crowd dance, choreography
Once I got a plan, ain't no stoppin' me
Three-car garage, million-dollar crib
With a foreign bitch ridin' on top of me
Lot of people done said I wouldn't be shit
Well, I guess they owe me an apology
These ain't no Guess jeans
I dropped out of school, I'm still good at math, but, nigga, don't test me
I played to the left, they went to the right, they tried to finesse me
Still riding 'round with that blicky, I hope they don't catch me
Police had raided our spot, so we went to the next street
Play like I'm dumb, as soon as it pop, I'm goin' retarded
He say I'm hard and he say I'm garbage, I'm rich regardless
We in Miami in the middle of the winter, and we on them jet skis
If we in Atlanta, I'm runnin' the 'Cat and I'm workin' the red key
compositores: Dominique Jones, Durk D. Banks, Kenneth K Gilmore, Rahshan Kyles, Taurus Tremani Bartlett
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