Sith Lord

Ayy, ayy, ayy (Ooh shit, that's a Danny G beat)

Do the dash in a Scat, fly it like a X-wing

Bitch, I'm Mr. Pull Up To The Bank And Make The Check Ping

Back to back champ, yo team losing like the tenth seed

I'll cut the traction off and make the 'Vette squeak

Ksubi jean rocker, riding 'round with some bean poppers

Everybody five plus, we don't do the team hoppers

Scam vet, 2016, I would've green dot her

7.62s demolish shit, this a tree chopper

Punching like a boxer, I don't box but we can box you up

Three five of Jelly Bean Pie, taking toxic puffs

How is you the source? Placed an order, you ain't got enough

Dog Shit Militia, cracking cards got my pockets stuffed

Made some shit off that one shit, shoutout Donald Trump

Samsung freezer, ten minutes, turn the Wock' to slush

It's gon' be a long night if I pop the trunk

Grab a coat, it's a cold night when I rock the buffs

You didn't know? It's time to get to it

Bro hitting whippits, clutching Glocky in this bitch zooted

Real shooter, only swish too

Tool got a ladder, hit his crib tryna improve it

Chop talking, Wock' dropper, swerving in the newest Demon

I just hit the mall again 'cause I was Gucci fiending

If we ever had a conversation, I was rudely speaking

Better have that same energy when that tooly swinging

Head nodding 'cause this song a hit

Crackhead, spilling red on 'em, I be dogging kicks

Upgraded ten on it, finna frost the kicks

.223s knock the dreads off him if he talking shit, huh

Vanilla giffies in the trunk, in the rental road running

Beamed up, Darth Maul, bro double pole clutching

You blowing up her phone? I got her in here toe touching

This drum mag' real as me, it's a whole hunnid

Head to toe, check her down like a Louis mannequin

Skywalking off the Runtz, I feel like Luke and Anakin

Drip God, damn near a pool I'm standing in

In the newest pair of Crocs, blow, scooping packages

If it's up, we gon' handle it

Uncle Scam, best believe that I'm taxing him

This shit getting easy, I don't need the practicing

You gon' end up head on the curb if you flash a blick

In my Air Forces like a Jedi

I pull up from wherever, bitch, I got some deadeye

Widebody, hogging two lanes, this a red eye

He said I won't hit his bitch but bet I, huh

Lemme stop, cooking up, Betty Crock

Dime bag copper? Boy, that's you, I don't petty shop

Looking like I got expelled in these Fendi flops

Thigh pad in these 'Miri jeans, lost a heavy knot

Catch him at the light, we gon' leave him with a totaled whip

I don't stress no more 'cause I know I'm it

The sauce ain't for sale, that shit over with

Heard yo unky crying in the trap, tryna hold a brick

Old-ass, poor-ass, bitch

Ayy, ShittyBoyz