Yeah (Let’s go, Mario!)
Woo, woo, woo, woo (let’s go)
Woo, woo, woo (yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
Woo (Lil Uzi Vert), woo, woo, woo, woo, woo (yeah)
Uh, I came in with a new .40 Glock
Fuck on your bitch, make that ho wanna Milly Rock
I’m with my boys and no, we do not Milly Rock
Funny money, no, this is not no silly guap
Got a Richard Mille, this not a silly watch (whoa)
All this money make me wanna hit my Diddy Bop
Tell the teller at the bank, um, just give me lots (hello?)
At the dealer, I can’t pull this shit off the lot
Me and my boys, you know that we sharin’ thots
I got niggas that be movin’ the tan rock
That’s the end of that, no, I cannot talk a lot
Man, these niggas out here, I swear they talk a lot
Drive-by on a rat, you a walkin’ cop (ooh)
Double-park, new Lambo with no parkin’ spot
Comme des Garçons, use my heart a lot (blaow)
Bend it over, little baby, just arch a lot
Yeah, she caramel but I call that bitch butterscotch
Dove bars, yeah, they choppin’ that soap a lot
Got my money, then I had to just flood the block
I’m the only one that fucked on that bitch
But I made that ho just cum and just neck the block
Yeah, I pulled up in my car, bitch, I blessed the block
We got shooters that’s gon’ pull up and X your block (blaow)
Woof, woof, woof, woof (yeah)
Makin’ money like a nigga don’t need the drop
One eye open, Illuminati like Fetty Wap
Microwave help me dry out the Redi Rock
Throwin’ money, beat the pockets, got heavy knots
Gettin’ guala, they don’t know when the fetti stop
Every day my birthday, why the confetti stop?
She look good but she wear Fashion Nova
Took her shoppin’, put her right in some Vetements
Got a bitch, yeah, she live in New York
But I took her right down, right in L.A
Spent a hundred thousand right at the Beverly
In the section, probably where, um, the felons be
I’m on Rodeo, it ain’t shit you could tell to me
And I’m on a boat, it ain’t shit you could sell to me
Uh, I came in with a new .40 Glock
Fuck on your bitch, make that ho wanna Milly Rock
I’m with my boys and no, we do not Milly Rock
Funny money, no, this is not no silly guap
Got a Richard Mille, this not a silly watch
All this money make me wanna hit my Diddy Bop
Tell the teller at the bank, um, just give me lots
At the dealer, I can’t pull this shit off the lot
Me and my boys, you know that we sharin’ thots
I got niggas that be movin’ the tan rock
That’s the end of that, no, I cannot talk a lot
Man, these niggas out here, I swear they talk a lot
Drive-by on a rat, you a walkin’ cop
Double-park, new Lambo with no parkin’ spot
Comme des Garçons, use my heart a lot
I was chillin’ with the niggas you fear a lot
Highbridge, I was just right there on the block
What do they got in common with Uzi?
We get money and we fucked up just on your thots
Make the haters sit back and, um, think a lot
I’m so lit, I could make your whole strip hot
Hit your bitch, yeah, she make me want body rock
Yeah, your bitch, she a thotty, old thotty-thot
Make her drop, then she gave that boy sloppy-top
This Chanel, no, I don’t wear no Baccarat
Went to Vegas, made some money off baccarat
Raf Simons jeans, they good for the pocket rocket
I’m in Eliott, keep tryna get these diamond socks
Slidin’ all on the ice like a hockey shot
Seventeen-five for a t-shirt
He got half, like he pulled up just with a crop
Whoa, gators on me, you can’t catch me in bummy Crocs
I’m a hare all on my bike, bitch, I bunny-hop
Hugh Hefner died so I can’t get bunny top
I can never die unless all my money stops
Fuckin’ on your bitch and I use a thumb a lot
When I do that, yeah, I make that bitch cum a lot
Countin’ up my millions, you know it’s up a lot (yeah)
Uh, I came in with a new .40 Glock
Fuck on your bitch, make that ho wanna Milly Rock
I’m with my boys and no, we do not Milly Rock
Funny money, no, this is not no silly guap
Got a Richard Mille, this not a silly watch
All this money make me wanna hit my Diddy Bop
Tell the teller at the bank, come just give me lots
At the dealer, I can’t pull this shit off the lot
Me and my boys, you know that we sharin’ thots
I got niggas that be movin’ the tan rock
That’s the end of that, no, I cannot talk a lot
Man, these niggas out here, I swear they talk a lot
Drive-by on a rat, you a walkin’ cop
Double-park, new Lambo with no parkin’ spot
Comme des Garçons, use my heart a lot (Lil Uzi)