text: Who yall talkin to, man?
  Ugh
  Check it out, check it out
  This here goes out to all the niggas that be fuckin mad bitches
  In other niggas cribs
  Thinkin shit is sweet
  Nigga creep up on your ass, hahaha
  Live niggas respect it—check it
  I kicked flows for you, kicked down doors for you
  Even left all my motherfuckin hoes for you
  Niggas think Frankie pussy-whipped
  Nigga, picture that, with a Kodak, Insta-mat-tac
  We dont get down like that, lay my game down quite flat
  Sweetness, where you parked at?
  Petiteness, but that ass fat
  She got a body make a nigga wanna eat that—
  Im fuckin with you
  The bitch official, though; dick harder than a missile, yo
  Try to hit, if she trippin, disappearin like Arsenio
  Yo, the bitch push a double-O with the five in front
  Probably a conniving stunt
  Yall drive in front, Ima peel with her
  Find the deal with her, she fuck around and steal, huh?
  Then we all get laced
  Televisions, Versace heaven, when Im up in em
  The shit she kicked, all the shits legit
  She get dick from a player off the New York Knicks
  Nigga trick ridiculous, the shit was plush
  Shes stressing me to fuck, like she was in a rush
  We fucked in his bed, quite dangerous
  Im in his ass while he playing gainst the Utah Jazz
  My 112 CD blast, I was past
  She came twice, I came last, roll the grass
  She giggle, saying, Im smoking on homegrown
  Then I heard a moan, Honey, Im home!
  Yup, tote chrome for situations like this
  Im up in his broad, I know he wont like this
  Now Im like, Bitch, you better talk to him
  Before this fifth put a spark to him
  Fuck around, shit get dark to him, put a part through him
  Lose a major part to him—arm, leg...
  She beggin me to stop, but this cat gettin closer
  Gettin hot like a toaster, I cock the toast, ugh
  Before my eyes could blink
  She screams out, Honey, bring me up somethin to drink!
  He go back downstairs, more time to think
  Her brain racing, shes telling me to stay patient
  She dont know Im cool as a fan
  Gat in hand, I dont wanna blast her man
  But I can and I will, though; Im tryna chill, though
  Even though situation looking kinda ill, yo
  It came to me like a song I wrote
  Told the bitch, Gimme your scarf, pillowcase, and rope
  Got dressed quick, tied the scarf around my face
  Roped the bitch up, gagged her mouth with the pillowcase
  Played the cut, nigga coming off some Love Potion shit
  Flash the heat on em, he stood emotionless
  Dropped the glass, screaming, Dont blast, heres the stash!
  A hundred cash! Just dont shoot my ass, please!
  Nigga pulling mad Gs out the floor
  Put stacks in a Prada knapsack, hit the door
  Grab the keys to the Five, call my niggas on the cell
  Bring some weed, I got a story to tell, ugh, ugh
  Yo, man, yall niggas aint gon believe what the fuck happened to me. Member that bitch I left the club with, man?
  Yeah.
  Yo, stinky, yo. Im up in this bitch crib—this bitch fuck with one of them ol Knick-ass niggas and shit. Im up in the spot, so, you know—
  Who, God?
  I dont know, I dont know which one of them niggas. One of them six-five niggas, I dont know.
  Yeah.
  Anyway, Im up in the motherfuckin spot. So, boom, Im up in the pussy, whatever-whatever. I sparks up some lah, Pa Duke creeps up in on some...
  Get the fuck out!
  Must have been rained out or something, because hes in the spot.
  Get the fuck out of here! Oh, shit!
  Had me scared, had me scared to death! I was shook, Daddy. But I forget I had my Roscoe on me.
  Ah, yeah, I know you had the heat!
  Always.
  Hahahaha.
  You know how we do. So anyway, the nigga comes up the stairs, he creepin up the steps. The bitch all shook—she sends the nigga back downstairs to get some drinks and shit.
  Ooh, shit!
  She gettin mad nervous. But I said, Fuck that man! Im the nigga!
  I know you was finna clap em.
  Yeah, nigga. You know how we do it, nigga—ransom note-style. Put the scarf around my motherfuckin face
  Aight!
  Gagged that bitch up, and played the cizzut.
  Ahahaha!
  Soon as this nigga comes up in the spot, I flash the Desert in his face. He drops the glass. Looked like the nigga pissed on his damn self or somethin, word to my mother! Word to my mother, yo.
  Ah, shit!
  This nigga runs dead to the floor, peels up the carpet, start givin me mad papers. Mad papers.
  Oh, shit, what? Yo, I told you that bitch was a scheisty bitch, cuz! Word to mother, I used to fuck with her cousin, but you aint know that!
  Hahaha.
  You aint even know that shit! Really, though.
  I put all that motherfuckin money up in the Prada knapsack, and, ugh! Two words: Im gone!
  Hahahaha! No doubt, no doubt... No doubt!
  Yall niggas got some lah? Yall got some lah?
  No doubt!