Aye

(Why is everything chrome?), Cash
Grrrhaw baw baw, baw baw skrrt skrrt skrrt
(Everything is chrome in the future!)

Aye aye, got my ACG boot on they trachea
I want face if she cute with no makeup
If he hate, ok cool then we're bakin' 'em
Fuck the jakes shout out my nigga Jacob
We gon' hit every shot like a layup
They ain't getting to no guap so they hate us,
and them clippers hit tops like fade ups (aye aye)
Stop, putting shit on homies you made up
Got this shit on my own I couldn't wait up
Put an ex on my phone like a breakup
I pop up in your home nigga wake up
Put his name on a stone like Rosetta
I fell off, I'm back on and I'm better
Bitch you soft with that chrome you a featha'
and Pat just came home, we can't let up
I give Kobe the chrome you gettin' wet up
Now its blood on your shirt that ain't ketchup
I can tell he was scared when I met 'em
I came up from the dirt, now I'm next up,
and I hang with some dogs, you can't pet 'em
You got sticks, we got logs so who betta?
Hella clips like a vlog to do betta,
and we hitting every shot from the neck up,
and I'm still on that block with the tech tucked
If we bring out them Glocks, then you messed up
Rip his vest with them shots, fuck his chest up,
When we run out your spot, better catch up
If he run with my ops he's gettin wet up
Tote a whole lot of Glocks and Berettas
We put faces on boxes and sweaters
I ain't racist I'm popping whoeva