Uh
Stuff, stuff a‚ uh

I stuff a Glock in my bitch pocket (Hey)
Bitch‚ stop it‚ skinny nigga, big papi (Hey)
I put the pedal to metal, we go Nicki Minaj (Huh)
One deep‚ baby, can’t top it (Brrat)
5’9", with the stick‚ I look like Big Papi
I keep a shotty, bottom bitches not harm me
How could I not be? Everything you copy, huh (Bitch)
I killed rock, now I’m sending bullets at you zombies
You never haunt me (Hah), niggas tried to Vietnam me (Yeah)
But I’ve been playing with pistols since you watching Toonami (Yeah)
I’m not a rapper, I’m white trash in a mocha body (Oh)
Ain’t no career, I’m just hoping Madonna adopts me (Facts)
I get it popping, fuck rock, bump Poppy (Brrat)
I put the stock in, I’m scheming, I’m not plottin’ (Hah)
These niggas steppin’ to me, end up Gianni Versace’d, nigga

Say, say
Do a feature for what?
Bro, I been dyin’ to kick it
I’m too big for my britches
I’m too rich for these bitches
Rich in spirit, not in wealth, nigga
Don’t get it confused, you feel me?
Again, do a feature for what?
(Like, like, what the fuck for?)

And you know that I’m afraid of everything
Written like a ghost stuck behind the wind
And you know that I’m a fool with the thing
Written like a ghost in the wind

Keep goin’, baby
Make me cry, nigga
Like, make me fuckin’ cry
Make me fuckin’ cry
We talkin’ about this story, I’m ’bout to fuckin’ cry
We talkin’ about this story, I’m ’bout to fuckin’ cry