Ooh, oh
Ooh, ooh, oh
Yeah, yeah, yeah
(Haha, Childish Major)
Who in the truck with the pretty guts?
Pudgy fuck, no tummy tuck
Got the city shook, mama look
Bitches glissy glossin' it up in the back
'Bout to break her back to some rap shit
Uzi vertebrae up like murder rate, up
Pearly gates
Reason number one is I'm the son of
Trees and moons, and martyrs, authors
Right when neighbors callin' me out, I came around the hardest (oh)
Playin' target practice, made the bad bitch a target (oh)
Darlin', what's you bargain? Let get it bustin' like we Boston
Your nigga all simp, blew his head like hе Marge, damn
Damn, Atlanta made it, 'Lanta made it (ow)
Out thе city, show in South beach, bought her nails, shit (ow)
Mike Wazowski, got my eye on her
Pudgy in the pussy got some power on it, like
Tell you somethin'
Who in the truck with the pretty guts?
Pudgy fuck, no tummy tuck
Got the city shook, mama look
Bitches glissy glossin' it up in the back
'Bout to break her back to some rap shit
Uzi vertebrae up like murder rate, up
Pearly gates
I don't know if I'ma get to pearly gates (pearly gates)
Standin' on top of the world, I'ma be like 7'8" (wow)
I wonder where my soul gon' go until the devil says (no)
I might got eight different baby mamas in seven states (states)
I don't care what you do in the daytime, and I better late
I don't care what you do in my whip, take your shoes off, anime
I don't drink no Henny, Casamigos be the better grade
I done put diamonds in my AP and it made me feel so late
And I got my momma a new home, it made me feel so great
Late better than ever, I feel like I'm greater than ever
Fight for this cheddar, the death get you jammed like vendetta
Who in the truck with the pretty guts?
Pudgy fuck, no tummy tuck
Got the city shook, mama look
Bitches glissy glossin' it up in the back
'Bout to break her back to some rap shit
Uzi vertebrae up like murder rate, up
Pearly gates
Reason number one is on the sun are
Trees and moons, and martyrs, authors
Right when neighbors callin' me out, I came around the hardest
Playin' target practice, made the bad bitch a target
Who you, bro? I don't know you, nigga, need to move over
Who smokin'? I'm on Mars right now, I feel like Bruno
Got eight pack, loud as drum, this shit deserve a drum roll
On your track, that could brag on brag on dumb hoes (it do)
But no niggas that be burnt out like that fronto (uh-uh)
I'm so serious, I be better off boolin' back on my own (ooh, ooh, ooh, yeah)
Who in the truck with the-