Not A Chance

Yeah, yeah, yeah I want the whole world, it's mine Bitch, I'm so greedy Water on my wrist, lil' bitch, this ain't no Fiji How the f*ck you on my dick but you don't need me Why the f*ck you cop that stick if you don't use it How the f*ck is you a rapper, you drop no music Anytime I drop a fucking song they go stupid Soon as they say I can't do something, I go do it You the type to put it on yo life, then you don't do it Bitch I got the fucking sauce, no I won't lose it Glock shots hit him in the ear, that ain't no Q-Tip (Nah) Knocked him out with the right, he was so clueless In that whip, this a SRT, I'm finna do the dash (Yeah) You left Somerset with snacks, we left with stupid bags Failed stats but when I up the bag I do the math (Bitch) If you talking on the gram, shit, use my at Bro shooting threes from the corner, where Kuzma at I been talking shit since before it was cool to rap You be taking L's, you fine with it, how you cool with that He was sending shots, bitch, I ain't tripping, I be cooling back Yeah, bitch I'm zooming Scats And I'm zooming Tracks You just be talking, I think yo ass need to prove the facts Always race the SRT, no wonder life be moving fast Passed you up two hours ago, now I'm just doing laps Yeah, yeah, I'm racing through, gotta make that paper move Lot of people cap but I know none of them as fake as you You think you going up? Bitch, we going places too, uh You down bad as f*ck, you go out and you chase a two Down bad, said you going up, bitch, I doubt it I'm too busy, still got money need to be counting Yeah, I'ma go flex the shit and stunt on them who was doubting, yeah Bro he a junkie, uh, Wock in his cup, he finna down it No accountant, I was counting money in accounting class Shit, I'm still getting money probably on account of that You be talking shit but you be lying, yeah, I doubt the facts Yeah, if he pull up then we gon' have to dump out the mag I don't even know how to rap, bitch, I'm just shit talking How the f*ck you don't know me but yo bitch stalking Five bands, ten bands, sorry, that's the drip talking Bitch yo money small as f*ck, why you big talking Money up on heavyweight Bitch, I'm the fucking champ Put on all this drip, that's why yo hoe she fucking damp Yeah, you ain't scoring, bitch, I pull up with some fucking clamps Thinking you ahead of me, not a fucking chance