Probably!

Yeah

I told that bitch, "You can fuck who you want"
"You just can't fuck a nigga who really ain't hard as me"
Ain't got a million, it's more like 100,000 in my bank
But I promise that's fine with me
You really out here stressin' 'bout a bitch that I fuck on the weekends
That ain't even fine to me
Used to get curved by this one bitch 'til she seen the blue check
And now she really got fond of me

Had to go cop me a 'Vette, I got tired of the Benzo
It just wasn't fast enough, honestly
Want a Republic, Columbia, Capitol
Best have a bag if you thinkin' 'bout signing me
Dip for like five or six million
The only way I'm finna be in the studio constantly
Come with like three or four mill' on the table
You just might get label to sign me yeah, probably (let's go)

Baguettes on my body, VS on my body
It hang from my neck like a motherfuckin' ornament (let's go)
We just hit Louis, then Gucci, then Prada, then oowee
'Cause we wanna get us some garments
Back in the day, we was sellin' the work and the Percs
Out the motherfuckin' back of apartments

Barber leg look like El Chapo, 'cause he got the gas on the gas
Yeah, the gardens on gardens
I'm 'bout to spoil myself, so I bought me a Rollie
See we goin' where? (Rollie) Yeah, up (Rollie, Rollie)
Yeah, racks on racks, we goin' up (Rollie, Rollie)
And I know you mad 'cause your bitch wan' fuck
Bro keep that-, bro keep that semi, keep that tucked

Walk in this bitch with a whole lot of money on me (let's go)
And the blick on my side, I might die tonight
I think that it's got to the point where we got too much money on us
So we blow it like dynamite (yeah)
And I just beat a 'Rari in a race, yeah, I was in a Jeep (skrr, hey)
Nextel called me up, said they wan' come sign, sign me
With two ex-bitches, they both Siamese

Niggas be bitches, I got somethin' for 'em
You run up on me, choppa knock out your molars
Rino just poured up a whole 'nother deuce
Man, I swear it's like he never run out of soda
I made a lil' too much money this year
Had to say, "Fuck a bank", stuff this shit in the sofa
My new bitch stay in New York
Finna get some new season Moncleezy for when it get colder
She be like, "Papas, I need some Chanel, Fendi, Balenciga to throw on my shoulder"

She get whatever she want 'cause her mama's the sweetest
The only thing I ever told her
The XD, the XD, the XD, yeah, I got the XD
She be everywhere with a holster
Come test me, come test me, come test me
Lil' nigga, come test me, I'm not like the rest of these locals
Confetti, confetti, confetti, shit blow like confetti
Oh, what? You thought it wasn't loaded?

Drivin' the Z51 like a psycho, police probably thinkin' I stole it
It's all I did, maybe he wanna be me
My style, yeah, my swag, yeah, you stole it
Tired of my sons thinkin' they can compete with me
Fuck it, guess I can't control it

I told that bitch, "You can fuck who you want"
"You just can't fuck a nigga who really ain't hard as me"
Ain't got a million, it's more like 100,000 in my bank
But I promise that's fine with me
You really out here stressin' 'bout a bitch that I fuck on the weekends
That ain't even fine to me
Used to get curved by this one bitch 'til she seen the blue check
And now she really got fond of me

Had to go cop me a 'Vette, I got tired of the Benzo
It just wasn't fast enough, honestly
Want a Republic, Columbia, Capitol
Best have a bag if you thinkin' 'bout signing me
Dip for like five or six million
The only way I'm finna be in the studio constantly
Come with like three or four mill' on the table
You just might get label to sign me yeah, probably (yeah)