You don’t need to wonder if I blow
There’s alot of it On my Koji Kondo shit, on my Koji Kondo
Technicolor platinum silver golds on my front some shit
On my Koji Kondo shit, on my Koji Kondo
East Atlanta, South Chicago flows
Yeah we run this shit
Don’t you even front bout it, don’t you even front bout it Throw the peace sign, this is nothing, I be high
As two-pilot propeller planes
Got hella flame for the fuckboys that sell they fame
The pigs come round', nobody tell a name
Nobody tell a name, nobody tell a name
The pigs come round', nobody tell a name
My bitch bought me a Gucci shirt
I’m turnt up like Lil Uzi Vert
Fuck with me you might get murked
My clique draped in all type of flow
For my lil' bro moves all types of work
My gang out here, my gang out there
I’m with them hoods that you can’t go Atlanta like my second home
My side bitch if we technical
No nigga this fresh you know
Dressed like a professional, turquoise on my necklace though
You be on that western coast
Always on the dash you know, sorry I ain’t checking though
I’m just out in Texas though, meet and text and sex these hoes
I’m not even flexing though
It’s just my confessional, it’s just my confessional
How a nigga move so professional
With an extra hoe?
I’mma let you know
Getting money like I never seen a check before
Getting blessed like I’ve never ever stressed no more
Putting bitches on, never getting dressed no more
I don’t even send a text with address no more
She just pull up at the door, I finessed that hoe
Like oowah
Young nigga savage
Posted on your backstreet
With a thick chick
Lookin' like she an athlete
In the ave-y
Saying thick ass Ashley
I’mma pass her that
Stick like track meet
My boys don’t sing
But they BackStreet
Yeah, uh You don’t need to wonder if I blow
There’s alot of it On my Koji Kondo shit, on my Koji Kondo
Technicolor platinum silver goals on my front some shit
On my Koji Kondo shit, on my Koji Kondo
East Atlanta, South Chicago flows
Yeah we run this shit
Don’t you even front bout it, don’t you even front bout it