Another ghetto white boy With white bitches on his plate Just like rae Sremmurd had said ain’t got no type ain’t got no taste Threw a band up in the air what goes up comes down like rain Money lying everywhere so know she claims she gotta stay I can’t tell if she want dick or plan on lootin out my safe Cardi b typa bitch but I’ll still shoot her in the face Probably moving outta town before I see another case Why stuff so much inside that blunt if you can’t smoke the 8th? High ground double cups cuz knockin over goes to waste
