Leaving The Lot

Got an apartment, I diet on my sauce
On a three level yacht with some bottles of drank
Leaving the lot on the way to the bank
Leaving the lot on the way to the bank
Big body smell like a pound of Gelatti
I made a pit stop, put some za in my tank
Her Birkin bag hold a biscotti
My bitch got a natural body, it’s not what you think

Switching my vehicle, switching my long
Not tricking no hoes I’m just tipping my driver
Find me a plug out of town with the gas
Someone cop me a bag, set the city on fire
Crossing the border with Dora Explorer
My cocaine whiter than Lizzie McGuire
Dawg in his cell with a miniature bible
Brodie didn’t tell so I sent him a wire

Cocaine whiter than Jennifer Lawrence
The heron on Michael B. Jordan, it’s tan
Eight-hundred horses inside of the motor
I pull up on niggas it sound like the Klan
We got a spot in the ceiling where we be high
Working the pills, just unscrew the fan
Curbside pick up, just like Walmart
Shopping center, thank you come again

Flipping the Bentley, got tired of my chauffeur
I gave him a day off of work, get some rest
I need a Drake type of deal at the minimum
Hunnit M’s, we finna purchase a jet
Boss Hog all y’all serve and collect
Big thirty on me in a purplish vette
I really got rich off Percocet, it’s been since
Soulja Boy tell them ain’t the first at that

Riding in the S65, and it’s 60 degrees, I need me a turtle neck
Google myself I’m worth a check
You can hate on me, but the shit just ain’t going to work
It’s goning to be the reverse effect
Maybach rear end curtains eject
Penthouse high where the turbulence at
You broke out here you allergic to racks

I might bold up and go burgundy ‘Lac
She say I’m ungrateful because
I made her take out a Burberry bag
Sippin’ on drank, I’m getting purposely fat
My money real neat it be perfectly stacked
Nigga you won’t wanna walk in my shoes
Or put on my clothes, my shirt is a rack
Sellin’ blue jeans like we working at Sak’s

Push a new Bentley I blew out my motor
Serving my Dad now I’m a little older
Neighbors got mad, they complain about the odor
Rocking chinchilla it chill on my shoulder
Save all the shake and pay rent with the overs
The blues go for forty-two in Dakota
Find out she stealing my money, I’ma choke her
Riding in the back of the Benz like Opera

Got an apartment, I diet on my sauce
On a three level yacht with some bottles of drink
Leaving the lot on the way to the bank
Leaving the lot on the way to the bank
Big body smell like a pound of Gelati
I made a pit stop, put some za in my tank
Her Birkin bag hold a biscotti, my bitch got a natural body, yeah

Everyday we can go
Some time I just sit back and just eat me some noodles
Ride with the girl in the bar in the back, if the police pull us over
The car is an Uber
Regular in yo cigar, it’s a hooker
Yellow bitch washing my car with a loofah
Flying in a rocket, I die they going to nuke them
Ran in my guap went and bought a bazooka