(Chapo)
(B-bitch)
I got some Wock' up in this Fanta
My ex mad 'cause I'm a scammer
Wanna talk talk to my hammer
That lil' Glock make him a dancer
Got your girl calling my phone, we smokin' drugs till we got cancer
And the opps stay talkin' down till they get put up on a banner
Who's the hoe? She lookin' bad
Hit that one
God, that eight ounce kinda sad
Score a pint then double back
Got a pint and some pot, I put that shit right in the stash
Monkey see, monkey do, bet I got more racks than you
Never done some shit for racks, that'll put you on the news
Big old bags, designer foo'
Sellin' scripts, droppin' food
Yeah, just got a lil' 16, pour that shit up on some fruit
Send the script out to Dallas and that shit wеnt so smooth
(Bitch)
When I got a pole, I keep it tucked
Camе in the back, left out the front
I told big homie pop the trunk
I'm 'bout to let this AK dump
I got some Wock' up in this Fanta
My ex mad 'cause I'm a scammer
Wanna talk talk to my hammer
That lil' Glock make him a dancer
Got you girl calling my phone, we smokin' drugs till we got cancer
And the opps stay talkin' down till they get put up on a banner
Got some Wock' up in this Fanta
My ex mad 'cause I'm a scammer
Wanna talk talk to my hammer
That lil' Glock make him a dancer
Got you girl calling my phone, we smokin' drugs till we got cancer
And the opps stay talkin' down till they get put up on a banner