[Verse 1:]
I hope you pussy mothafuckas die,
Wish death upon they soul until they burnin' in a fire,
I'm the illest mothafucka breathin', fuck yo rhyme or yo reason,
Fucking over yo issues, it's kill-a-ho-nigga season.
I made my way, way, I found my road, road,
Ba-ra-ra-da-da, I made my own, ho.
Yughh! You ain't ever have shit, local nigga.
Woo! How the fuck I owe you, local niggas?
I'm a global nigga, Champs-Élysées shopper,
Looked up to Eric B and dope dealer, chain rockers.
Where was you when I was bleedin'
Disappointed and battlin' my demons?
I just want to ride Italian leather, actin' like you don't know me,
Euro designer palace, fuck my bitch on Missoni,
And I feel…
[Chorus: Andrea Martin]
And I feel like they want to take my life,
Be careful what you say, be careful what you do,
Tell them what they want to hear, but stay from the truth,
And I feel like they want to take my life.
[Verse 2:]
It ain't enough that I struggle through my career,
Less appreciated when I was part of a pair,
Pushed an envelope full of truth like I was dared,
Depiction and the depth was the proof that I was there.
It's no question in my origins,
Photo album full of Polaroids, they still pointin' in,
Couple million records sold, still say I'm poisonin',
Seven different SIM cards bringin' all that mortar in,
Brick by brick, nigga, all you add is water in.
We ain't got to touch hands, nigga, put your order in,
I just want to float through clouds, Hermès seams on my towels,
No overly gaudy shit, just the diamonds on the dials.
Woo! And I'm still buyin' mo' guns,
Mo' money, mo' murder, nigga, choose one.
[Chorus]