The Recipe

Uh, pulled up in that DBX Lil' bro talking about me, I know he be stressed We go in, get what we want and then we out like CVS All the opps was talking shit, they mad as f*ck they see me flex I made money, made it quick and I cannot take one step backwards Why you texting me saying your opinion like it matters Got the recipe, we just keep it real, y'all been some cappers Walked out in a Prada fit Bitch, I'm looking dapper Money stacker, money go getter I'ma run that bag up till that shit can't get no bigger Making hits, hitting shit off, I ain't no quitter Icy ass wrist, this ain't no glitter Pockets went up, had to grow stiffer Lil bro off the lean, that ain't no liquor Get money like Charlie Sheen, bitch, you so bitter Bro talking, must be off a fucking bean Man, I'm going up Had to put in work to live my dream, yeah, yeah Had to get off my ass, I had to grind for this shit Why you trying to hit me up, I don't got time for the shit Pulled up brand new Track and I ride with a stick I would die for this shit You just lie, you a bitch Stepped out rocking Uden, might cop Overdose Way too much drip, I'ma keep going till it overflows They asked me do you want the Track or Rover, I said both Up as f*ck, walk right into Dover for a coat, yeah, yeah Yeah, been running shit up, it's lil Sok Who the f*ck is you taking to, bitch, I'm the goat Yo pockets skinny as f*ck, mine yoked Run up on me, get blessed like the pope Said that you'll pull up, you won't You ain't doing shit, stop hitting my phone Big ass AR that I tote Point it at you, it's getting ya gone, uh I make bands all alone Do it by myself, do it on my own Talking bout me, watch the tone Bag went up, lil bitch, it's grown Might give my masters to Capone You a capper, bitch it's, uh You a capper, bitch, come on I stand alone just like Michonne Small ass coupe, it go too fast but I can't stand in it You ain't gon do shit with that glock So why you brandish it Hit the set, copping what I want Different brands and shit Said you up, that's a cap You posted pics by yo man's whip You can catch the hands, lil bitch Whip cost hundred bands, lil bitch You don't got a chance, lil bitch I'm like who the f*ck mans is this Big body coupe, we slamming it Y'all tried to take sauce and ran with it But I don't give a f*ck we going to the moon, not landing, bitch We throw shit, you ain't landing shit Yeah, yeah, yeah Uh, uh, yeah