Bet that bitch think I owe her sumn
I don't owe these bitches none
I'm a sick son of a bitch, I let that temple meet my gun
'Fore I ever give these bitches a dollar up out my wallet
Think that bitch still got my number
Pray to God that she don't call it, uh-uh
I cannot get comfortable with these bitches
Tell her keep it to herself, mind her fucking business
Aight, I'ma fuck with you
Finessa, no Huxtable
Bitch, I am untouchable, this pistol very tuckable
I'ma fuck the bag every night
'Cause the bag is the only thing in my life that's fuckable
Sike, nah, haha
Bet that bitch think I owe her sumn
I don't owe these bitches none
I'm a sick son of a bitch, I let that temple meet my gun
'Fore I ever give these bitches a dollar up out my wallet
Think that bitch still got my number
Pray to God that she don't call it, uh-uh
(Think I owe her sumn)
(Owe these bitches none)
(Sick son of a bitch, I let that temple meet my gun)
He all talk, he not on go
Play my cards like Yu-Gi-Oh!
Cracked his head like he's an egg
For his life, I heard him beg
Can't go outside, I never fold
Don't play games with me, no console
I shoot my shot like Pau Gasol
Ain't no damn way I'll sell my soul
He got hit with that heat
Nobody fucking with me, nah
Nobody really compete
You telling a story, a fleet
My money blue like Mr. Meeseeks
You niggas not stepping, won't see me
But you're gonna see me on TV
That boy don't wanna fight, no PVP
Made that bitch think I owe her sumn
I don't owe these bitches none
I'm a sick son of a bitch, I let that temple meet my gun
Before I ever give these bitches a dollar up out my wallet
Think that bitch still got my number
Pray to God that she don't call it
That bitch think I owe her sumn
I don't owe these bitches none
I'm a sick son of a bitch, I let that temple meet my gun
'Fore I ever give these bitches a dollar up out my wallet
Think that bitch still got my number
Pray to God that she don't call it, uh-uh
♪
Think that bitch still got my number
Pray to God that she don't call it, uh-uh