I’ma hide them pieces— ayy

Play with plastic

this ain’t really got a— (Twenty-two, ayy)

On the— (Ayy, twenty-two, ayy)

I play with plastic, this ain't really got a smell

But when I'm on the road, I'ma hide them pieces well

If I get locked up, they gonna tryna add some years

I woulda known that indictment

but it's tatted on my skin (Michigan Meech)

This shit real, snap my fingers, I didn't get a nigga peeled

I went in the booth, but I'm thinkin' 'bout the field

New bitch like Fendi, but she in YSL heels

Walkin' through Somerset with a bag of me, for real

Painkillers in my pocket, I'ma takе 'em till I heal

I be in thе trenches, you ain't in your hood, for real

My nigga got a low number, I might show my other skills

And you thought it was some pounds

but it's proof that I didn't kill

My nigga, tell me what you want, what you need

Yeah, that shit around from the phones to the bins

Need every kind of whip, from the coupes to the sleaze

I got model bitches, tryna suck me through the jeans

I got some wockhart, 'bout to pour up inna cream

Niggas out here tough as hell, but ain't never got no cheese

You gonna make a fake page to say what you want to me

I ain't gotta search for hoes, all of 'em find me

Boy, you ain't gettin' off, somebody need to put you on

Niggas rappin' 'bout the kitchen

but ain't never touched the stove

I'm in and out of stores, bitch, I'll call you when I'm home

But I be home in a week 'cause, right now, I'm on the road

These niggas tell it all, when a little pressure on

You can hear the pain in my shit, nigga, that's my sauce

So in love with this money, I can't stand me bein' broke

Nigga play with my name, we gon' hang 'em by his throat

This shit real, snap my fingers, I didn't get a nigga peeled

I went in the booth, but I'm thinkin' 'bout the field

New bitch like Fendi, but she in YSL heels

Walkin' through Somerset with a bag of me, for real

Painkillers in my pocket, I'ma take 'em till I heal

I be in the trenches, you ain't in your hood, for real

My nigga got a low number, I might show my other skills

And you thought it was some pounds

but it's proof that I didn't kill

Three gram wood to the face, I'm not passin'

Most these niggas characters, in these raps, they be actin'

I ain't really like these rap niggas, they be cappin'

If niggas want smoke, it's on the flo', I ain't cappin'

If you don't buy the damn pack, nigga, why you askin'?

Havin' dreams that I'm rich, I woke up, and made it happen

Fell asleep with my cup, and woke up to a package

Turnin' nothing into something, niggas think I know magic

I play with plastic, this ain't got a smell

But when I'm on the road, I'ma hide them pieces— (Well)

If I—, they gon'—

I woulda known that indictment, but it's tatted on my skin

This is real, snap my fingers, I didn't get a nigga peeled

I be in the booth, but I'm thinkin' 'bout that new—

Like, but she in YSL heels

I'm walkin' through Somerset with a bag on me, for real

Painkillers in my —, I'ma take till I heal

I be in the trenches, you ain't in your hood, for real

Nigga got a low—, I might show my other—

See you thought it was some—, but it's—, it ain't—, ayy, ayy

Twenty-two, ayy

Ayy, twenty—, nigga