smoking AmiYumi, that pink and purple in my wrap/ girl i still feel like Dewey, i keep that brick up in my bag/ check clear, i hit a u-ie, i hit the Kawhi Leonard laugh/ to the B-O-A/ that’s when i knew at last that it’d be okay/ ..smell like designer scent, y’all reek of feet and Frito-Lay/ and humid Florida booth is where i be all day/ explain that!

who’s doing it like me? c’mon boy, be real/ i smack them around like Tyson, and still haven’t broke a nail/ sumo when gon shake the earth, dog/ feel like Rudy Tabootie, except my words chalk/ way i eat her booty, got her sounding like a bird clock/ (i think you need to calm down) yeah, no shit sherlock/ but who’s gonna stop me? you? good luck/ Popeye’s spinach, my gas strong like pushups on pushups/ ..shooting star, man i wish a, i wish a/ bitch would, i’m a one woman militia/

Final Fantasy my wrist, and add some Vivi’s/ .they tryna get like this, but they can’t be me/

kill the mood when i leave/ dawg i zoom when i geek/ chip a tooth when i speak/ …

i feel like Korn, i need a leash/ i’m not Italian but i’m hung like, Mussolini/ dorks shielded from the truth like Tim Pool’s beanie/ my blunt fatter than Josh lips from Mr. Meaty/