Type Shit

I'm the youngest in charge
Bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch
Told them I'm the youngest in charge, huh, bitch
Look (A-A-A-Ayy Melly, what the fuck is this?)
Bitch

I'm the youngest in charge
At the counter with the clerk, punching in cards
Wanted six figures, now I need a hunnid M's large
You can't make the first down, I'm coming ten yards
Think you fucking with the gang? You coming fent' bars
Boy, you know you laced
Talking 'bout you doing this and that but, boy, you know you ain't
He in here capping, all that hat, that shit ridiculous
Too much guala in the skinnies, couldn't fit the blick in it
(Damn, twenty-eight skinny)
5.56s with the green tips, feel like iayze
Leaving out the cleaners fresh to death, feel like Ace
Za smoke, burning in my eyes, feel like mace
This a V12 but I don't feel like racing
Ain't no bitches, dead Prezis what I feel like chasing
Out in Cali, all these flavors, shit, I feel like facing
It's some voodoo in our double cups, gang feel like Haitians, ha-ha
Every sip muddy
Five percent wrapped around the whip off mirror tint buffies
Why the fuck when you get money people get funny?
Them dollar signs'll show their true colors
2022 ours, tell 'em pick a new summer

(Fuck, shit)
Enhanced fake ID, I'm finna fly to Europe
Granny think it's Kool-Aid but this a pint of syrup
(Yeah, I done grew up granny, look, alright)
I'm just tryna get rich, three commas type shit
Used to walk around broke, three dollars type shit
I'm just riding 'round dolo, three choppas type shit (Oh my god)
NHLs skating 'round, iced up type shit
We just piped him down, he was piped up type shit
Don't mug, you get to live life once type shit
I was down but I had to climb up type shit (Type shit, damn)
You internet thugging, I ain't finna type shit, bro
Adonis, we'll pull up with that baby Drac'
Charged up off a yerky, bet not try shit, bro
In Milwaukee charging Giannis for a pint of Quagy, ayy
They ask how I do it, shit, I'm turnt type shit
No traction in this bitch, I'm finna swerve type shit
Fuck the US, the hottest on the earth type shit
Dirty Faygo got me slurring all my words like, shit
Come get the bag off me
You a rookie, you can't even try to trash talk me
Two cups from Dunkin' Donuts, I ain't grab coffee
I just left the lot, you know I told them bitches Trackhawk me
Two-forty on the dash type shit
Popped out with a fifty ball just to flash type shit
Gangaroonie in the back, they can match type shit
Supreme coat off the backpack type shit
Freestyle type shit, no, I ain't write shit

Huh, huh, type shit
Huh, huh, type shit
Amiri jeans, bitch, that type
Bet not try to try shit
ShittyBoyz



Credits
Writer(s): James Johnson Iv, Roberts Vucens, Kristian Davila, Maxim Irisbaev
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

Link