Out My Business Rod Wave

[Intro]
Fuck on my bae, pack my suitcase, I'm finna hit the road (Pipe that shit up, TNT)
Yeah, uh, yeah, uh, yeah, uh
Uh, yeah (Oh Lord, Jetson made another one)

[Verse]
Fuck on my bae, pack my suitcase, I'm finna hit the road
Jump off the plane straight to the stage, I go collect my dough
Back to that bottom, stackin' guala with my main niggas
Bought my house on top of the hill, but my heart in them trenches
Bitches be thirty, forty years old, still in my business
They quick to talk about the shit that they'd be doing different
Three years ago, I was a joke, they ain't wan' take me serious
Now they be mad 'cause they see we went from rags to riches
Can't leave the house without my glizzy, niggas out to get me
Before I get caught up without it, I get caught up with it
My ho the sickest, so I turned her to my baby mama
Want her position, so they quick to confront her with drama
Niggas do all that talking and typing like it's a problem
Since it's a problem, I'll call up Jigga, we bought up choppers
Lil Chris a shotta, he'll do a hit in Balenciagas
Yeah, that's the one, boy, he gon' get it done, boy
Now let's take a trip, we all in DC at the MGM
Buyin' Gucci and MCM, steak, potatoes, and scampi shrimp
Top floor, ain't a hater near, surrounded by my dawgs
Like they don't want us to ball, y'all, they want to see us fall