We not one and the same
Casper the friendly, Tunechi Cobain
Ask how I’m livin, I can’t complain
Like, it’s hot in hell, but it never rain


My money so old I tell my new money “respect your elders”
I’m startin to get jealous of my own reflection
The young n—a sexy, a young n—a healthy
A young n—a flexin, I’m countin my blessings
Achoo, God bless me, thank you, you’re welcome


I get my cheese like Mickey Mouse
or else you better Donald Duck
like a shooting range target
I get all kind of bucks
Come be my shooting range target


All my kids already rich, and they kids, and they kids
They think money grow on trees and as tall as they grew I climbed


1-2, 3-way,
.44 makes 8
9 times outta 10 it’s an 11 or a 12 gauge
friday the 13th, that’s the day that hell raise
but ya’ll boys too weak like 14 days


Momma hate I got my daddy’s eyes
Never looked into my daddy’s eyes, he ain’t have the time, fuck him
The revolution will be televised
I just hope my contribution will be memorized


Overpaid, fuck a budget
I’m overdue, I ain’t budgin
I want my bread, fuck the muffins
Without my cream, I’m sour onion


I play the hand that was dealt, I got a deck full of aces
I gave birth to your style, I need a check for my labor


Oh Lord, what are we runnin from?
The police cause they already killed enough of us
Stay out them streets cause they don’t fuck with us, they huntin us
We in a race against racists, that’s a color run


But wait
Let’s talk about M’s, not about them, I love my BM’s, I love my YM
Ain’t no more CM, let’s pluck out the stems, let’s fuck like a nymph, she walk out, she limp
It’s dark and we dim, yeah we dem niggas, handcuffing him niggas
back up and skim niggas, see that?
We strapped up, we cap up your brim nigga, fill my cup up to the rim nigga, Tunechi