Chain ​clipping.

[Verse 1]
Got a year’s paycheck hangin’ on his neck
Gotta floss for the bitches
Got a wallet full of money and a new Rolex
And the low-hittin' switches
Gotta put on for the block he got brought up
And all the blocks just like it
Gotta find more traps in every city that he visit
Show 'em how to get right shit
Got a neck tattoo and a hat with a leather brim
Teardrops on the face
Got a Chevalier and a vintage Jay's
And a Louis briefcase
Got the Comme des Garçons cologne to drop on
Neck smellin’ like gold
Got the taper fresh and the Tom Ford pressed
The A/C on cold
Got a text of the light from a number that he didn’t know
Gotta pull out the celly
Got a message sayin’ he was dead if he tried to go
Gotta look like: "Really?"
Gotta feel like: "What the fuck is this shit 'bout?"
These hoods so triflin’
Gotta show 'em how to step they life up a little bit
All they think about is fightin’
Gotta laugh at it, really, ain't nobody gonna do shit
All these wannabe thugs
Got so much cash, 'course they gonna wanna hate
These kids need hugs
Got an itch when he put the gas pedal to the floor
Somethin' didn't feel right
Got a bullet through his brain, and he didn't feel anything more