Blake Griffin Yung Mal (Ft. Doe Boy)

[Intro]
(808 my crew)
(Pyrex Whippa)

[Chorus: Yung Mal]
I got Pyrex on my beat, so you know it cost a whole lot (A lot)
Don't play with opps, they drop the dot
We pull straight up, we stop and pop (Grrah, grrah)
The spot got pounds, they thought I crop (Yeah)
Watch him, that boy talk to cops (Watch him)
My wrist, it got a lot of rocks (Wrist)
My foreign, it do tricks (Do tricks), watch the top drop (Yeah)
Ask me what her top cost
Don't do no dates, no Top Golf (Nope)
I spent racks on one cross (Racks)
I could've bought a Trackhawk (Yeah)
My brother, he send packs out (Yeah)
New condo, my shit laid out (Uh-huh)
I been balling on 'em (Duh)
I get money like I'm Blake now (Cash)

[Verse 1: Yung Mal]
I got bands in my bank account (Bands)
Got young niggas ready to take you out (Uh-huh)
Whack him since he chasing clout (Whack him)
Racks stackin', shit just pilin' (Racks)
Don't got no stylist, drip for real like Thousand Island (Drip)
And my diamonds, they might blind you (Yeah)
Shooters in front, got some behind me (On God)
Damn, I took off perfect timing
Catch a flight, I'm flying private (Whew)
Catch him lacking, line him (Hah)
He went missing, they can't find him (Pussy)
I'm in the back of the 'Bach reclining (Uh-huh)
My prices, they just keep getting higher (Yeah)
All these checks keep getting wired (Yeah)
Bitch, I got this shit on fire (Hot)