[Verse 1: RLX & CRIMEAPPLE]
Blow the patrol y mata la estada
40 piece hanging, fuckin' without my espalda
Told shawty le tengo ganas (N***a)
You and ya' casa muy de malas
Expeditions around the world spilin' brasa (Yeah)
Feeling proper (Let's talk it up)
You look dusty but you talkin' like you sellin'
Tryna knock me off my level, I put hot shit in ya' melon
Fresh as coffee out the creca
Coughing of the pressure, I was rockin' on manteca
Walk with me a second
If you cross me, it's whatever, you just lost being forever
What's the cost of gettin' several fucking Lord that feds the devil
Pocket presidential
Walk and left me dead and out my mental
Lock it like a pick, pop you like a pimp
When God sent me here, planned for me to find a God within me
I want better years
Standing on the mountain seeing clearly that we're never here
That's why I keep it far, never near me (Nah, nah, nah)
Dipped in better gear, I'ma keep it raw like I was chichi
Your talk is cheap, we not believing, see you not deceiving, sheesh
N***a peeped and watching me, the block what I'm receiving
Eat shit, will see the cards that I was dealing
Long as I was breathing, we don't need to talk without a reason
Hawking, y'all were creeping
Call me, I ain't sleeping
Strong around the season feeling like all the time weaken
I'm always at the deep end with the sharks and the heathens
Soaring through the ceiling, that ain't art, you were reaching (Yup)
[Verse 2: TF]
Sticks and stones, lotta spoon, that's a ceremony
The bitch got high, said she was clairvoyant
Paranoia set in
Like thinking the SWAT team followed her to a dead end
Race tracks hidden on her prayer hand tattoos
I prolly walk a mile in 'em shoes (Walk a mile in 'em shoes)
Now I'm plotting on the island I might go [?] cruise
Win or lose, it's risky business word to Tom Cruise
When I end up on the yard and turn the lime on full (Turn the lime on full)
Uh
I smell like Tom Ford in whores drippin' pussy juice
Ninety minutes, watch me count up what a cookie do
The whip tookie blue, I put that bitch in sport mode
We're the big dogs, not the cane corsos, uh
A single bullet leave yo' [?], adios
ETS fitness that's the cardios, corrios
I been the cone and n***as run off like the Maury Show
That red rum one fifty-one Bacardi flow
Killa
N***a
Everything stainless, you bitch ass n***as

[Outro: CRIMEAPPLE]
Expeditions around the world spillin' grasa
Feeling proper, big papa [?] monopolized
Made lil' mama holler gossip about the condom size
Split you up, nothing but particles, remarkable
All my shit genuine article
All ya' shit feminine friendly
Soundin' like straight coco rap
[?] tried suing to get the logo back
Burn a logo on ya' fitted for frontin'