I’ma just leave this right here
The greatest mixtape series of all time
Uh-uh-uh-mmmm
Care to debate me?
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, sick shit
I thought so

Keep that shit on Twitter, y’all ain’t lit, y’all litter
Keep that shit in your shitter, or eat that shit, don’t spit up, rrr!
Keep my bad bitch did up, keep my main bitch put up
Watchin’ me do push-ups
She was playin’ with herself and I looked up, damn
Your thot need to get her look up, ugh
You’re plottin’ on me, my foot up, ugh
Your squad ain’t hard, that’s cushion, ugh
That ain’t sauce, that’s pudding, ugh
Tunechi ‘cross her bosom, damn
Shooting up the jurors, damn
Don’t name my pistol, I named the trigger
“Benjamin Button” push him, bam!
Y’all just pussy, get buried together and let ’em play footsie
Y’all just wussy, I got some bullies
Gon’ pull up in hoodies and come take a look-see
Better play hooky, I got some hookers hookin’ up with politicians
And some athletes, and some college niggas
Send your missus on all kind of missions
I’m the sickest nigga skippin’ doctors visits
But my pots is pissy, smokin’ hockey sticky
Put a stockin’ on my face and hit a lick and
When the shit get ugly, I go Pretty Ricky
I don’t fuck with rats, neither Minnie, Mickey
I don’t fuck with cops, that’s the piggly-wiggly
Fuck my bitches’ friends, and they friendly-friendly
While your bitch is giving me her twenty-twenty
Like she tired of Mickey-D’s, Wendy’s, Denny’s
Like she tired of Macy’s, J.C. Penney’s
I got bitches gettin’ tired of spendin’, spend it
If we winning, win it
I know dreamchasers that ain’t never dreamt it
So I had to tint it and I had to rim it
And I worked the lanes like Shaq and Penny
It’s the Blood gang, it’s the money gang
Red rags to riches, need happy endings
Then it’s back to business, and we laugh at sentencing
Hungry lawyers make a snack out witnesses
Hungry artist or a starving artist
In the kitchen, restaurant, and cafeterias
Don’t make a difference if you taste the difference
Better pay the difference to the racketeerers
Now your good luck looking like you cracking mirrors
Now the artificial become sacrificial
That’s a body count, where the mathematician?
Where the wettest clitoris and fattest nipples?
With an ass that jiggle with a grab or tickle
With a throat deep enough to land a missile
If your nigga miss you and he have opinions
Tell him two cents is only half a nickel
Now we at his villa aiming at his pillows
Hair triggers, fingers finna act like bristles
And the cash, it triple; flip, kick, jiujitsu
Throwing pool parties, she don’t have a swimsuit
Neither of her friends do, I think that’s official
Got my neighbor’s eyes bigger than The Simpsons
And her man a simper, so I had to pimp her
And she had potential but he lacked credentials
So give me a sec, I’ll go at your neck
And send you back lookin’ like the Dracula bit you, rrr!
Yeah, cannibalism, going animalistic in a land of civilians
These niggas clones, copycats, and chameleons
Once they dead and gone, no paraphernalia
When she left her thong, that’s paraphernalia
Sound familiar? My plug Sicilian
He the one who told me that sometimes
You gotta leave your la familia behind the millions
Rhyme or reason, I’m the reason
Got their eyes wide, but too blind to see it
With friends like those
It make me text all my enemies and tell ’em I don’t need ’em
Hallelujah, power intruders
Bitch walking ’round my house like Hooters
Towel user, power user
Molly mixed with white girl, Molly/Susan
Niggas talking out their bowel movers
Turn their homies into flower choosers
Turn your kids into father choosers
Make your bitch a widow and your mom a cougar
I’m a silent shooter with a silent shooter
Clap at you, if you don’t die, I’ll boo you
Tell a doc that’s tryna save your life
And running wires through you, he could die next to ya, rrr!
I’ma make the nurse ride me like a giant scooter
Let her partner shoot it
We put out the movie, win awards
She got a Golden Globe head and an Oscar booty
Niggas prostituting
These rappers ain’t talkin’ ’bout shit, not even ’bout pollution
Ain’t got a house to live in, ain’t got a pool to swim in
Change in their pockets, nor a couch to lose it
En route to Houston with the contribution
Full of Monster juices, Mazda too slow
Macho, Cujo, macho mucho
Big bad wolf, watch the moon glow, rrr!
I got a Greek freak, she call me Antetokounmpo
Just follow the coupe, ho, and I know that you know
I’m hotter than soup, she still swallow my soup bowl
I’m out of my loophole, you out of the loop though
Got all these niggas on silent and mute mode
The power to do so, my pockets is sumo
Getting the mula by the minuto
Mafia Nouveau, I am the uno
Real boss nigga, should model for Hugo
Fuck with me, I go Lollapaloo-zo
Pull up, trigger finger, holler, and pull-o
Pow-pow-pow, sound like a symphony
Or opera, two-door, hitting some new notes
And I am the maestro, and you just a typo
Private flight, don’t fly in too low
I’m wiser than you know, a private school flow
I got me a new ho, and now it’s a duo
One went to college and one went to JuCo
I had to ask ’em, “What’s four plus two, though?” Rrr!

My ultimate basketball dream team
The starting five would most likely be umm
Of course I’ma have to start with Kobe Bryant, umm
This gone take a minute, umm, Chris Paul
Uhh, Shaquille O’Neal, LeBron James
And umm, oh you know I’m gon say Steph Curry, hehe, Steph Curry
You already know that’s my starting five, I got money on them
Holla at ya boy