text: Boardin the plain with a backpack
  Nerves on 10 cause its loud pack
  Back to the east, with a pound of the purp in a sutecase, yeah, you know I got that
  Hope the TSA dont smell that
  Dont take my shit, I gotta sell that
  We dont eat if I dont break bread, Im survin that juggin, baby, dont you get that?
  Big homie call from the city
  Said hes looking to get lifted
  Said I got what you need
  Never expected a young thing like me to be moving
  You know I got that flame
  Straight from the O, its so new, aint even got a name
  Shits so strong, it aint even got a name
  Just know I got that loud
  Sell me something
  She only smoke a few
  I hit it
  I aint tryna pop a perk
  How you living?
  Did I mention that you can get the bag to me?
  Lil baby, right in the city
  Trap and trappin, doin numbers
  Got a bad ass plug, straight from Benny Honna
  She lay them bags on the boy
  Bring them out
  2500 bags of gass, that be a lot
  Big homie said that he loved it
  Traided pounds of loud for them buckets
  And the trap is real, and it really go down, and I can make it seem like I love it
  See I dont speak on shit that aint something
  And I dont write no song with no substance
  And it aint no way that I know what I say, and I flip some shit like its nothing
  Mommy, hollar when you done fflexing
  If you come up here, its a blessing
  Got my head to the sky, cause you know that Im forever finessing
  Boy, stop with all that talking
  I can tell by the way you walking
  That you aint been a thug, and you never sold drugs, you a petty nigga, quit flossing
  I got loud
  You know how they do
  You get money bitch, I do too
  I dont know about you, but your name, I do
  That fresh, that frost, nigga, shame on you
  Thats a whole nother issue
  Baby, back to the money
  Tryna stack me up some hundreds
  Fuck up some kommas
  Got a million on my mind,already worth a couple hundred
  Do the numbers
  Balling hard all summer
  I keep that loud, Magic City
  Numbers on point, you fuckin with me
  2 grams in the trunk, fuckin with me
  My bad, the pounds, I had to hit it
  Shot of Patrone, before I hit the road
  Ever since, a motherfucker stick to the coad
  Got them all off, now Im on my way back
  Countin it all up in my new Benz, Im straight up
  Getting money bitch, Atlanta shit
  Plug in real life, showing all these niggas aint a damb thing funny