Yeah, okay, I walk up in the club, Louies with the cherry bottoms
Bad bitch on my arm with a Halle Berry body
You know what I do, I get straight to the mula
Wristwear frigid and my watch is a Franck Muller
I’m reppin’ Young Mula, Gudda times two, I
Remember when I used to stuff my paper in my shoe box
Now I got two large accounts
Where money stacks in large amounts
What the fuck you niggas talking ’bout?
‘Cause we ain’t tryin’ to talk it out
Pistol hangin’ out my jeans, it ain’t a thing, let’s spark it out
Let that chopper start to sing and let it ring and then I’m out
Yeah, you know what I’m sippin’, purple got me trippin’
Scoop your chicken up and let her lick me like a lizard
I’m on South Beach chillin’ and I’m tryin’ to fuck every hottie
Get her to the crib and make her fuck everybody
You know the team, it’s Young Money over everybody
In the rap game, so it’s “Fuck everybody”

Married to the MOB, bury you alive
My girl pussy feel like Heaven to a God
And I came in this bitch with my niggas
Kidnap the baby and the fuckin’ babysitter, yeah
I be doing me, don’t give a fuck ’bout what you doing
Blood gang, bitch, big Bs, Boston Bruins
I could do this shit eyes-closed, nothin’ to it
Bullets fuck your body up, they ain’t even tryna view it
I go tough, I go stupid
Murk your pussy ass and everyone you in cahoots with
Fuck you with a pool-stick, make you swallow toothpicks
Fuckin’ right we ruthless, we done watched too many movies
Done smoked too many doobies, murk you out, then deuces
We don’t know what truce is, that bulletproof vest so useless
Flag red like bruises, shoot at ya head with them Uzis
I swear, your honor, I ain’t a dealer, I’m a user, ya dig?
I load up the Sig, point it at ya wig
Pull over on the highway, throw you off the bridge
We don’t give a fuck and we ain’t never did
Shit, three words you never hear? “Let him live”
I’m in my own zone, it got me throwed off
I break these bitches down, I break these hoes off
Lil Tunechi is my name, I got Gudda on the tape
Public apology, Sorry 4 the Wait
Yeah