Call it rap, call it pop, boy
Call it what you want, boy
We call you a opp, boy
Gotta big gun? Who you shot, boy?
Call it rap, call it pop, boy
Call it what you want, boy
We call you a opp, boy
Damn, I'm a real life GothBoi
Why the fuck you lyin' in the streets? (Lyin' in the streets)
Why the fuck you lyin' to me? (Lyin' to me)
Why the fuck you lyin' to her? (Lyin' to her)
You couldn't even buy her the purse (nah)
Everybody wanna flex on each other (why?)
I just want some money for my mother (damn)
This ain't no competition (nah)
Please listen, hold up, listen to me
I was really in the kitchen, yeah
But I sing about bitches, yeah
'Cause I really know killas
They are not like you at all
And I can tell it, I can smell it
I can see it in your eyes, boy, yeah
That's why I got respect,
'cause I ain't a fuckin' liar, boy
Yeah, yeah, damn
Call it rap, call it pop, boy
Call it what you want, boy
We call you a opp, boy
Gotta big gun? Who you shot, boy? (Huh?)
Call it rap, call it pop, boy
Call it what you want, boy
We call you a opp, boy
Damn, I'm a real life GothBoi
You ain't on the block, boy
Yeah, you got a Glock, boy
You hot, boy?
That ain't smart boy get your ass locked boy
And for what?
Ya diggin' ya own grave
Ya diggin' ya own grave, yeah