SodaDJ Scheme, Cordae & Ski Mask the Slump God

[Intro: Cordae, Nessly, & Yung Bans]
Y'all rocking with DJ Scheme, little bitch
D-D-Daytrip took it to ten (Hey), hold on, uh

[Chorus: Cordae]
I got a duffel bag full of cash, nigga, and I don't plan to spend it
I seen this music game wasn't on shit, had to put my hand up in it
I know certain niggas that's for certain killas, but shit, handlin' business
I like my bitches bad with a fat ass, I'll be damned if I ain't hittin'
I got a couple cuhs with the ankle jewelry, niggas couldn't ever leave the crib
I said, "Fuck that shit, let's head to the mall 'cause we young, huh, gotta live"
I know niggas growin' up prematurely, but fuck it, nigga, I ain't worried
Hopped up off the porch at like thirteen just to prove to niggas I ain't scurry

[Verse 1: Cordae]
And by any means that's necessary, designer jeans my hereditary
I fucked that ho like mid-May just to have a baby by February
Like, oh man, crazy as hell, this job only pay me a lil'
Wonder how a Mercedes'll feel? Daydreamin' ain't payin' a bill
Uh, watch how I fuck it up, get back
All these other niggas straight big cap, uh, uh, uh
Lambo truck straight pitch black
Shoppin' at Saks on Fifth Ave, uh, uh, uh
My unborn daughter got a rich dad
First car gon' be a Hellcat, uh, uh, uh
Good gas, boy, we smell that
Shoes same cost as Chanel bag, uh, uh, uh (Hold on, uh)

[Chorus: Cordae & Ski Mask the Slump God]
I got a duffel bag full of cash, nigga, and I don't plan to spend it
I seen this music game wasn't on shit, had to put my hand up in it
I know certain niggas that's for certain killas, but shit, handlin' business
I like my bitches bad with a fat ass, I'll be damned if I ain't hittin'
I got a couple cuhs with the ankle jewelry, niggas couldn't ever leave the crib (What'd you say? What'd you say, Cordae?)
I said, "Fuck that shit, let's head to the mall 'cause we young, huh, gotta live" (Okay)
I know niggas growin' up prematurely, but fuck it, nigga, I ain't worried
Hopped up off the porch at like thirteen just to prove to niggas I ain't scurry (Ayy-ayy-ayy, ayy-ayy-ayy, water)

[Verse 2: Ski Mask the Slump God]
Don't even gotta finish my sentence, they feelin' my presence
Like a knee, but you closed eyelids (Closed)
Feelin' like a menace to Society, I'm Dennis The Menace without sobriety, hold my beer (Oh my)
Ayy, listen here, to make that kind of money, you gon' need to wish upon a fairy godmother tear (Ayy, ayy, ayy, it's tear)
I ain't talkin' Rudolph, I'm makin' it rain, dear (Rain)
Soundin' like I'm Naruto, talkin' about pain here (Huh), uh, uh, uh
She jackin' my beanstalk, get that?
Golden Goose, had to get your bitch back, uh, uh, uh
You niggas need to go and get your drip back
Mismatch, need the milk, Similac, uh, uh, uh
Probably took a catnap and still in my peripheral (Woo)
Keepin' it with the nat-nats, uh, uh, uh
I'ma ace this blackjack, schoolin' 'em
On how to handle the rock like I'm Jack Black, uh, uh, uh
Uh, uh, uh-uh-uh (Get it)
Hot as Grand Crayon sand scorpion critter
Radioactive, I broke the emitter
You bitter, actin' like unpaid babysitter (You bitter)
Uh, uh, uh, uh (Bitter)
Flow sharper than any arrow in Robin Hood quiver
Shit on the pussy, shovel over the kitty litter
Stay with the stick and the misfit, I'm Master Splinter (Hold on, uh, uh)

[Chorus: Cordae]
I got a duffel bag full of cash, nigga, and I don't plan to spend it
I seen this music game wasn't on shit, had to put my hand up in it
I know certain niggas that's for certain killas, but shit, handlin' business
I like my bitches bad with a fat ass, I'll be damned if I ain't hittin'
I got a couple cuhs with the ankle jewelry, niggas couldn't ever leave the crib
I said, "Fuck that shit, let's head to the mall 'cause we young, huh, gotta live"
I know niggas growin' up prematurely, but fuck it, nigga, I ain't worried
Hopped up off the porch at like thirteen just to prove to niggas I ain't scurry

[Verse 3: Cordae]
If a nigga ever talk shit, I'ma finish him
Fuck the police and fuck George Zimmerman
Just told M1 he the new Timbaland
Niggas switched up on me, Aunt Vivian
Good kid from a mad city, no minivan
Love a fat ass, but really, I'm a titty man
Hit the strip club, spent at least about fifty bands
Fuck all the bullshit, I'm the real Dirty Dan
Ayy, what you need? You a centipede, you can't fuck with me
I'm a winner, you a runner-up, Mike Huckabee
Luckily, cut some niggas off, now I'm sucker-free
My bitch, she's so fucking bad, buy her double C's (Hold on, uh)

[Chorus: Cordae]
I got a duffel bag full of cash, nigga, and I don't plan to spend it
I seen this music game wasn't on shit, had to put my hand up in it
I know certain niggas that's for certain killas, but shit, handlin' business
I like my bitches bad with a fat ass, I'll be damned if I ain't hittin'
I got a couple cuhs with the ankle jewelry, niggas couldn't ever leave the crib
I said, "Fuck that shit, let's head to the mall 'cause we young, huh, gotta live"
I know niggas growin' up prematurely, but fuck it, nigga, I ain't worried
Hopped up off the porch at like thirteen just to prove to niggas I ain't scurry