[Intro: Producer Tag]
Whoa, Kenny
[Verse]
I make sixty racks in my sleep
Double that back, save half of the cash up
I just gave sixty back to my team
A.J. Tracey drip on the watch
Yeah, I call that sixty stack to A.P
Way too wavy, the boy won't stop like Aitch
Got sixty racks in my jeans
Bruddah, got sixty racks in my jeans (Whoo)
Bitch, please
I'ma slide like a Tokyo drifter
Get a bitch high when she get in my ride
I'll American Pie that, boy going Stifler
Bruddah online with a very strong vibe
And the Henny on wine, so I slide that Insta
Bruddah don't lie, you thinking your shit good
Nah, see, you ain't due for this gas, fuck Hitler
You're a shit cunt, that's dirty
You wanna clash? This a smash-up derby
I ain't Shawn Mendes, you ain't getting mеrcy
French girls give me good brain, say, "Mеrci"
Little chick dirty, new chick thirsty
Triple 2-0 on a hoe, that's thirsty
I was on the grind since hashtag merky
The man united up in the van like Persie
What, what? Yeah, what, dog?
You get struck by thunder, Bon Scott
I was on the opp block, I was getting opp thots
Nah joke, I don't got the opps 'cause the opp block
I ain't lost prof', kept it in a locked box
So I got a thot in a Burberry crop top (Whoo)
Now everything I earn, brah, it's dosh-dosh
Bruddah, you ain't DaBaby, you not Bop
You're a soft cock (Skrrrrt)
I'm protecting my drive like bumpers
I ain't Stormzy, but unless 10K for the week
Brutha, we ain't gon' chat 'bout numbers
Let's draw strings, Hurtsville
Yeah, the hoodie's on top of your head
Brutha, I don't need jumpers
Talk money, the cheque come direct
East, West, North, South, give a fuck for the compass
Yeah, damn right, yeah, damn right
D from the back of the box, the girl Van Dijk
You ain't on shit, you're shit just like a man dyke
You been on shit, less chicks than your 'Gram likes
Yeah, damn right, yeah, damn right
I don't give two fucks what her man like
How he jump online with the hate shit
Then jump back online with a 'Gram? (Hahaha)
Like, I don't get all you online troll cunts
I don't know how you sleep so well
Little raps minions, forty years old
And you're still a virgin, you're like a Steve Carrell
Your life, not mine, don't speak, don't tell
Too busy with your bitch in a cheap hotel
Chicks want chicks and the chicks want dicks
So the chick told chicks and the chicks just told
Everyone, bruddha, who's jealous of me
Getting this cheddar no better than me
Better be stressing, your girl going shopping
Then using your credit card; spending on me
Pay for the weed and she get it for free
The crazy lil' freak gimme head in the Jeep
Argh, sixty racks in my sleep, brah
Still saved up all the rest for the street
Wait, how the fuck he this good?
Can't explain it, maybe the cadence
Maybe I'm patient, maybe I'm basic
Maybe I couldn't give a fuck for the haters
Maybe I couldn't give a fuck that I'm famous
On a M.I.A. with the paper planes
Blazing a J, brah, face it
It's 420 fam, brah, I blaze it
Whoa, Kenny
[Verse]
I make sixty racks in my sleep
Double that back, save half of the cash up
I just gave sixty back to my team
A.J. Tracey drip on the watch
Yeah, I call that sixty stack to A.P
Way too wavy, the boy won't stop like Aitch
Got sixty racks in my jeans
Bruddah, got sixty racks in my jeans (Whoo)
Bitch, please
I'ma slide like a Tokyo drifter
Get a bitch high when she get in my ride
I'll American Pie that, boy going Stifler
Bruddah online with a very strong vibe
And the Henny on wine, so I slide that Insta
Bruddah don't lie, you thinking your shit good
Nah, see, you ain't due for this gas, fuck Hitler
You're a shit cunt, that's dirty
You wanna clash? This a smash-up derby
I ain't Shawn Mendes, you ain't getting mеrcy
French girls give me good brain, say, "Mеrci"
Little chick dirty, new chick thirsty
Triple 2-0 on a hoe, that's thirsty
I was on the grind since hashtag merky
The man united up in the van like Persie
What, what? Yeah, what, dog?
You get struck by thunder, Bon Scott
I was on the opp block, I was getting opp thots
Nah joke, I don't got the opps 'cause the opp block
I ain't lost prof', kept it in a locked box
So I got a thot in a Burberry crop top (Whoo)
Now everything I earn, brah, it's dosh-dosh
Bruddah, you ain't DaBaby, you not Bop
You're a soft cock (Skrrrrt)
I'm protecting my drive like bumpers
I ain't Stormzy, but unless 10K for the week
Brutha, we ain't gon' chat 'bout numbers
Let's draw strings, Hurtsville
Yeah, the hoodie's on top of your head
Brutha, I don't need jumpers
Talk money, the cheque come direct
East, West, North, South, give a fuck for the compass
Yeah, damn right, yeah, damn right
D from the back of the box, the girl Van Dijk
You ain't on shit, you're shit just like a man dyke
You been on shit, less chicks than your 'Gram likes
Yeah, damn right, yeah, damn right
I don't give two fucks what her man like
How he jump online with the hate shit
Then jump back online with a 'Gram? (Hahaha)
Like, I don't get all you online troll cunts
I don't know how you sleep so well
Little raps minions, forty years old
And you're still a virgin, you're like a Steve Carrell
Your life, not mine, don't speak, don't tell
Too busy with your bitch in a cheap hotel
Chicks want chicks and the chicks want dicks
So the chick told chicks and the chicks just told
Everyone, bruddha, who's jealous of me
Getting this cheddar no better than me
Better be stressing, your girl going shopping
Then using your credit card; spending on me
Pay for the weed and she get it for free
The crazy lil' freak gimme head in the Jeep
Argh, sixty racks in my sleep, brah
Still saved up all the rest for the street
Wait, how the fuck he this good?
Can't explain it, maybe the cadence
Maybe I'm patient, maybe I'm basic
Maybe I couldn't give a fuck for the haters
Maybe I couldn't give a fuck that I'm famous
On a M.I.A. with the paper planes
Blazing a J, brah, face it
It's 420 fam, brah, I blaze it
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