[Intro: Benny The Butcher]

(Griselda) Yeah

Jansport J

Y'all don't ask me no questions, just listen to this shit

Uh (Hit-Boy)

[Verse 1: Benny The Butcher]

She catch a one-way flight to kick it wherever I'm at

So if she want to stay, then the bitch'll never come back

You wanna know how a chip feel? I've been there once

This year three, in the beginnin' of a ten-year run

And as predicted, my persistence got my name on all the lists

Had a brick before a rack, like that dope boy from Memphis

I survived all them death threats and three felony convictions

Plug found out my whole team was hot, he kept his distance

What's a stage with no mic and no voice of a poet?

What's more important, the flower or the soil that grow it?

Yeah, it's cool, but one rule, don't get caught in the moment

Or it's back to swingin' ratchets and warmin' up water

Starvin' made me thin, it ain't no mercy in this game we in

Odds stacked against us, had to play to win

I got a broad, I never saw her before 1 AM

I'm out west in Crazy Girls, cleanin' out the ATM, let's go

[Chorus: Freddie Gibbs]

Phone so burnt, I need my pager back

Trips with that work, my baby made it back

I fuck with them hoes, I know she hated that

You gon' cry in that Toyota or this Maybach?

[Verse 2: Benny The Butcher]

This for hustlers with straight cash, not bitches with fake bags

For hoes who fall in love with trappers and break bags

She textin' my homie, but I'm fuckin' hers, she fake mad

These hoes can't handle a nigga they can't have

Unlucky for y'all, you know who the fuck is in charge

I put a couple in jars, let it fluff 'til it's hard

I'm at JAY house, Kerry James Marshall cover the wall

Enough cushion I could cover the fall, you know business is business

Bitches is bitches and they fuckin' us all

You know how life go, you stuck with your flaws, what's that about?

They had me fucked up, niggas thought I'd suffer for long

I'm drivin', countin' money with hundreds on the Cullinan floor, uh huh

Put my hands together and I pray for the bread

'Cause I get five jail calls a day from the feds

Go to sleep with an alarm and a K on the ledge

And the fireproof thousand pound safe in the crib, ah

[Chorus: Freddie Gibbs]

Phone so burnt, I need my pager back

Trips with that work, my baby made it back

Fuck with them hoes, I know she hated that

But you gon' cry in that Toyota or this Maybach?

[Interlude: Freddie Gibbs]

Waist stash

Rollie, she fake mad

[Verse 3: Freddie Gibbs]

Uh, I said fuck it, wasn't gon' do a verse

Bought some ugly white girl, when I whipped it, it's Miss Universe

'Migo brought the chickens on the bird, that's that Scooter work

I control my bitch's OnlyFans, I got computer work

Freddie Kane, I keep a college bitch on the '94 with the waist stash

Baby daddy bought her that fake Rollie, she fake mad

Butcher and the Rabbit, got damn it, check our credentials

Hoes get fucked and sent home early just like the Clippers

Is you with it bitch?

[Chorus: Freddie Gibbs]

Phone so burnt, I need my pager back

Trips with that work, my baby made it back

Fuck with them hoes, I know she hated that

But you gon' cry in that Toyota or this Maybach?