text: I keep tryna pull up my pants 
  I got thirty thousand in my joggers 
  I got the pistol on the flight 
  I just flew out to LA from Charlotte
  That bitch aint get shit from Christmas, she naughty 
  In the car with her head down, she noddin’
  And her boyfriend gon act like he with it
  Til I put this four-five on his noggin
  Fuck all that talkin’, just put a few mil on the table and give me a pen and Im signin 
  I just cut off my bitch 
  Cause you aint really with me, be honest
  She know Im a motherfuckin pimp, she don’t get steak and shrimp
  B done took a lil’ bitch to McDonalds
  Put a bag on your motherfuckin head, better watch what you said
  On my motherfuckin’ pics and my comments 
  In the four Im a motherfuckin giant 
  A king like a motherfuckin lion 
  Oh, these lil’ niggas act like they want that 
  We gon slide in your DMs, we slidin
  Better call up the homicide unit, I make em pull out yellow tape with the sirens
  They gon make me come set this bitch off
  When I pull that bitch out its too late to say sorry 
  Niggas thought I was pussy cause they heard me singin to bitches like YK Osiris 
  I got my mind on my money
  Lets run up some motherfuckin commas 
  Lets go to the motherfuckin bank 
  Bitch, Im from Charlotte, we blank 
  Mama told me to pull up my pants 
  Got them racks on me, mama, I cant 
  I keep tryna pull up my pants
  I got thirty thousand in my joggers 
  I got the pistol on the flight 
  I just flew out to LA from Charlotte
  That bitch aint get shit from Christmas, she naughty 
  In the car with her head down, she noddin 
  And her boyfriend gon act like he with it
  Til I put this four-five on his noggin
  Uh, I keep tryna pull up my pants 
  This big .40 hangin out my joggers 
  I grew up around them apartments
  Now Im in LA like a Dodger 
  Wont beef over tweets
  I send my young nigga walk down on your ass like he stalkin 
  Uh, leave him fresh to death in a coffin 
  Im on Runtz, from Cookie Im coughin 
  Always up like Im booted on molly 
  These lil niggas 12, they talkin 
  They cant keep up, Stunna a problem
  I cant keep these bitches off me 
  Yeah, we bringin eyes in the party
  Make him play with that stick on him til he say sorry
  Fuck who? I beg your pardon 
  Wont cop pleas when shit get started 
  I keep tryna pull up my pants
  This big pistol hangin out my joggers 
  She eat dick when I land
  Hit from the back, she call me her father 
  For my bro, Ill take the stand
  Hand on the Bible and lie to your honor
  Big dawg, you lil niggas is toddlers 
  On the way to the show in the Sprinter with choppers 
  I keep tryna pull up my pants
  I got thirty thousand in my joggers 
  I got the pistol on the flight 
  I just flew out to LA from Charlotte
  That bitch aint get shit from Christmas, she naughty 
  In the car with her head down, she noddin 
  And her boyfriend gon act like he with it
  Til I put this four-five on his noggin