Dork Rap Rittz

[Verse 1]
Shit, it’s 4:44 and I'm talking on my money phone
I’ve been stuntin’ on ‘em all summer long
Your money gone, sweeter than some Honeycomb
Gettin’ money long till you’re freaking phone bill
Go on, cut it on
Got some real homeboys, never done me wrong
You could meet us at the top then if not, well
You can fuck off and run along
People flip on you like a somersault, doin’ cartwheels
Pourin’ top-shelf liquor in my cocktail
The CLI-N-TEL Crew comin' like the cartel
Double-timing, but that’s how I feel
Better stay up in your lane
Get in mine, hit the guardrail
Trynna work, but the cards dealt
And still flex on ‘em like I’m doing curls with a barbell
Traffic in and out my house like it’s a yard sale
I be in the crib with a blonde bombshell
Livin’ like a kingpin, did it with the inkpen
Shit I’m sayin’ make sense when it sink in
I’m distinctive, pinky ring pimp
Spittin’ shit that you think spin in distinction
Like the horn of a rhino, or elephant tusk
Soarin’ through the sky like a pelican does
Snort a bunch of white, when I’m feelin’ the buzz
You sayin' you supported, I can tell you're jealous of us
But that’s cool with me 'cause my fanbase thick
You're wounded again, make the band-aid stick
It’s a movement, you can shit the campaign, bitch
Light the fuse and I’m lit like a lampshade is
Every verse, I’m going on one of my rampages
Let the champagne fizz
I can show you how to get paid
But they just went and stole my template
Trynna copy me but they could never be this caliente, bitch