作词 : PoWR Trav/Tommy Parker/Samara Cyn

作曲 : PoWR Trav/Tommy Parker/Samara Cyn

Say, don't **** with me

Don’t ****, uh

Don't **** with me, uh

Huh

Okay, shit

Don't **** with me ’less you ready for this problem ('Less you ready for this shit, man)

Mama always taught me you don't start those, you solve 'em (You ain't ready for this shit, man)

Mink, mink goblin, finish 'em, they wobblin'

Okay, chill, they fallin', damn, Cyn, get off her

I’m a prophet, don’t take shit, won't harm shit

Can’t take the play, don't you jump in this ball pit

Used to work at Harbor Freight, but now this my office

Can you believe they pay me all this money just to talk shit?

Lil' bitch, I'm vibin’, lil' bitch, we mobbin' (Yeah)

All in God timin', well, goddamn, I'm shinin'

On these records, this ain't silver, ho, it's white gold

Wait 'til I get them diamonds, it's gon' be a chokеhold, KO

I'm a hoochie, I'm a sellout

Smell likе shit every time it's me they talk 'bout

I'm a born sinner, better get that gone

Eighty-five, burnin' rubber 'til I get back home, uh

And bitter is the fruit that fell early

Slither with these snakes on me, Lord, have mercy

Hands in this chicken, no Church's

Throwin' up to purge it, Lord, forgive me for these urges

Uh, so who the **** I look like if I slow up now? (Uh)

Talkin' out they neck, but my foot calmed that down (Uh)

Used to let that slide just to keep folks around

Now I keep the scissors in my bag in case they get loud

We pipe that smoke down, uh (Yeah), don't get me rowdy

These hoes can't rap with me, say that shit proudly

Bad, bad, Mike Lowrey

Servin' face and seasoned, bitch, I even brought my Lawry's

They like my lil' voice, they think that shit sweet

They think they gon' beat this lil' caramel coochie (Please)

Well, bitch, I'm the new-age Eve

Forbidden gems up my sleeve next to that .380

I'm a hoochie, I'm a sellout

Smell like shit every time it's me they talk 'bout

I'm a born sinner, better get that gone

Eighty-five, burnin' rubber 'til I get back home, uh

And bitter is the fruit that fell early

Slither with these snakes on me, Lord, have mercy

Hands in this chicken, no Church's

Throwin' up to purge it, Lord, forgive me for these urges (Goddamn)