| Griselda, by Fashion Rebels |
| Yeah |
| Uh-huh |
| Yeah |
| Spooky shit, nigga |
| Way too spooky, nigga, look |
| Hard work instead of talent |
| But I work harder than niggas and I got better talent (That's a fact) |
| Than any nigga that ever challenged |
| And tried to knock me off my toes, I had to show him I had better balance |
| Everybody is food, hoodie fake them diamonds |
| Get head in Dallas |
| My bitch thick like Meg Thee Stallion |
| As you can see, my bread is piling |
| Still got the elbows flyin' like I’m Randy Savage, uh |
| Lately the bitches give me more vagina |
| Niggas thought I was broke so I bought more designer |
| I wore the kind of shit your ho admire |
| Luxury foreign driver, pistol possession in all my priors |
| These niggas all are liars |
| I know some zoes who’ll push your shit from Opa-locka to Fort Myers with carbon |
| fire |
| A hundred for my line-up |
| My rich white bitch, her mind was distorted kinda |
| She snorted imported China (Sniff), yeah |
| Pop the Taurus and tore a swine up |
| In front the whole hood, just to give 'em a short reminder |
| Now I’m in position, I got all kind of people callin' my line |
| That I ain’t see when I was on the climb up (Where was you, nigga?) |
| I still cop jewels and rock ice |
| Seen Trig on the news, my dude just got life (Damn) |
| Rock the Christian Loubs without spikes |
| My team can’t win without me like Bulls without Mike, ah |
| Everybody is food, I told them niggas |
| They ain’t believe me when I said it, I showed them niggas |
| I put the yola in the pot, put the soda on top |
| Make it lock, now the knots won’t fold, my nigga |
| Everybody is food, I told them niggas |
| They ain’t believe me when I said it, I showed them niggas |
| We got extendos in the Glock, if it’s drama, let me know |
| We pull up, hop out, put holes in niggas, ah |
| And your bitch see me Versaced down |
| Now I get the money and I just watch it pile |
| Big rocks in the dial where the watch is now |
| The face flooded but the band is all crocidile |
| These rappers tryna jump in my lane and copy style |
| But you too docile, poppin' choppers is not your style |
| Bust down the Cuban, my Dominican bitch is chocolate brown |
| In Spanish Harlem eating Bacalao |
| They gave my nigga Bettis 40 when he got the trial |
| I just pray he win that appeal and they knock it down (Free the homie) |
| Let a nigga get out of pocket now |
| I’ll drop a bag and have a shooter knock him down while I watch and smile |
| Yeah, a thousand for my belt |
| Murals in different countries without an album on the shelf |
| Already did it on my own, nigga, now you wanna help? |
| I was broke and on the come-up, I ain’t have nobody but myself (Fuck where was |
| you at, nigga?) |
| And Daringer, on West and Benny |
| And really, we apparently the best, the semi |
| I got it with me, I’ll air him with the skrrt and spin him |
| When it hit him, and it’s tearin' in his flesh |
| I’m apparently a threat 'cause they compare me to the best |
| But who really fuckin' with me? 'Cause I ain’t hear a nigga yet |
| I’m from May Street, sellin' crack and carryin' a TEC |
| Told you it’s gettin' spooky, this shit is scarin' 'em to death, ah |
| Everybody is food, I told them niggas |
| They ain’t believe me when I said it, I showed them niggas |
| I put the yola in the pot, put the soda on top |
| Make it lock, now the knots won’t fold, my nigga |
| Everybody is food, I told them niggas |
| They ain’t believe me when I said it, I showed them niggas |
| We got extendos in the Glock, if it’s drama, let me know |
| We pull up, hop out, put holes in niggas, ah |