[Intro]
(Boy—, that's them, boy—)

[Chorus]
And this bitch she want my bag, told her, "Get off of my back" (Fuck you, n***a)
I was fucked up in that trap and I had to get off my ass
Still up in the trap, difference is I'm countin' cash
I think your ho tight, 'cause I get her then I dash
He said he want smoke and I'm gon' light, is you gon' match?
I might do 'em bad, 'cause he clutchin' on his bag

[Verse]
You just pump fake, pump fake, you ain't got no strap
You just pump fake, pump fake, all you do is lack
That bitch ran through, she ran through, I cannot cuff that gnat
When that pack touched down, yeah, you know I caught that
I push up all black, leave your favorite rapper flat
I told your mans to come get back, n***a ain't spinnin' for shit
Swear you n***as be thinkin' you him and that's how you n***as get hit
Smokin' eighths to the face, I can't feel a thing
Ain't no ho on my mind, I could barely even think
If he push up to my crib, then I'm leavin' him six feet
All these bitches in my DMs, told them "Get off of my D"
I'm just worried 'bout me, and I'm worried 'bout my trap
I been on the same shit, but I cannot go back, yeah
I been on the same shit, but I cannot go back
She fuckin' my mans, you can't get your ho back
By the pound, I smoke that, yeah
She a thot, can't fuck with that, yeah
What's the deal? Like I got [max?], yeah
[Chorus]
And this bitch she want my bag, told her, "Get off of my back"
I was fucked up in that trap and I had to get off my ass
Still up in the trap, difference is I'm countin' cash
I think your ho tight, 'cause I get her then I dash
He said he want smoke and I'm gon' light, is you gon' match?
I might do 'em bad, 'cause he clutchin' on his bag