Released: September 22, 2013

Featuring: T.I. Spodee Mac Boney

Songwriter: T.I. Spodee Mac Boney Young Dro

Producer: Stroud

[Verse: Young Dro, T.I., Mac Boney and Spodee]
I got a french supermodel, I give her bone jur
And I like [?]
I'm with my brothers, this shit here so Atlanta
We fuck up the city, we be like them niggas in Paris
I know these niggas embarrased, looking at a Haris
Primetime television, the label don’t get my vision
My reputation a legend, loyalty over peasants
These bitches like "I'm the shit", I'm like "shit, hoe who you telling?"
[?] maxomous, up there with exadous
All I need is X and Dub, to get these hoes ready, cause
Bitches want the dick from you, they don’t really want the love
Bitches wanna shop with you, kick it at the strip club
Different night, different shoes, all kind of trentch names
Christion, Michael, all kind of Vera Wangs
Baby I'm a gangsta, I don't play no games
This pistol, reefer, all kind of gold things
Spending 3 stacks in 13 nights, bitch I'm fly today
Anything I get on I annihilate
I get the feeling suckers looking at me sideways
Pussy nigga, you must wanna die today
If I was vegan and you was beef, I'd still eat it
You bustin to feed it, I'm with the cleaners, industrial squeegy
Ain't no doubt about it, duckin, I clutch it and squeeze it
My K German, but the techs from Russia and Sweeden
Any enomy we need defeated is easy for me, there's no need be worrying bout it
Come on, one of my gunners just got out of jail, he be there in a hurry
Saying my name in a song, you gon get layed out on your lawn
Shoot him [?]
You find out we better when pressure is on
Eh wait, I hit him in the Benz, Future’ll shoot ya
The audomor from Switzerland, the Swis account crusial
5 gaters with eyes that see where you is
Mafia clan, [?]
This is the mafia nigga, the mob
We don’t give a fuck if you run up and rob
Get yourself hurt, or worse in the durt
Been folling your gut, not folling your thirst
Ask your mom, you gon end up in a herse
Boy, watch how you talk in your verses
Eh boy, we got killers that ready to merk
A hundred [?] willing to work
Cairfull which one you let hop in your vert
The GPS [?]
From there, we just track him and hack him, stack him
Ride him and [?]
[?]
Topple the rivers, topple the dinner
I'm killin them niggas nobody remembers
And this is why I should be losing my temper
The crib is laced, concored space, mars
Everytime I spit, what come out my face? Bars
Straps and bones, we taking them iThe trap rocking, and [?] glockin [?]
Yello ice bitch, piss on the arm
Vietnamese bitch on the arm, she mixed with Japanese
Frank Muler, something sick on my arm
And you know I put piss on the charm
Sucka niggas look like a fall
Take a look into my crystal ball
Chill, a nigga make your bitch crawl
I was checking hoes all in [?]
Locking pounds off, nigga splitting up the cost
I came from the bottom [?]
Can’t play under me, I read you like [?]
[?] rapping and trapping like [?]
And till then I'm smoking swishers till my lungs hurt