[Intro]
(Whoo Kid)
Ayy
[Verse 1]
I could never be nobody number-one fan
Your first number one, I had to put it in your hand
You pussies can't get booked outside America for nan'
I'm out in Tokyo because I'm big in Japan
I'm the hitmaker y'all depend on
Backstage in my city, it was friendzone
You won't ever take no chain off of us
How the fuck you big steppin' with a size-seven men's on?
This the bark with the bite, nigga, what's up?
I know my picture on the wall when y'all cook up
Extortion baby, whole career, you been shook up
'Cause Top told you, "Drop and give me fifty," like some push-ups, huh
Your last one bricked, you really not on shit
They make excuses for you 'cause they hate to see me lit
Pull your contract 'cause we gotta see the split
The way you doin' splits, bitch, your pants might rip
You better do that motherfuckin' show inside the bity
Maroon 5 need a verse, you better make it witty
Then we need a verse for the Swifties
Top say drop, you better drop and give 'em fifty
Pipsqueak, pipe down
You ain't in no big three, SZA got you wiped down
Travis got you wiped down, Savage got you wiped down
Like your label, boy, you in a scope right now
And you gon' feel the aftermath of what I write down
I'm at the top of the mountain, so you tight now
Just to have this talk with your ass, I had to hike down
Big difference 'tween Mike then and Mike now
What the fuck is this, a twenty-v-one, nigga?
What's a prince to a king? He a son, nigga
Get more love in the city that you from, nigga
Metro, shut your ho ass up and make some drums, nigga
Yeah, I'm the 6ix God, I'm the frontrunner
Y'all nigga manager was Chubbs lil' blunt runner
Claim the 6ix and you boys ain't even come from it
And when you boys got rich, you had to run from it
Cash blowin' Abel bread, out here trickin' (Out here trickin')
Shit we do for bitches, he doin' for niggas (What the fuck?)
Jets, whips, chains, wicked, wicked, wicked (Wicked, wicked)
Spend it like you tryna fuck, boy, you trippin', boy, you trippin'
Drizzy Chip 'n Dale, probably got your bitch Chanel
I just got 'em done, boy, don't make me have to chip a nail
Rolling Loud stage, y'all were turnt, that was slick as hell
Shit'll probably change if your BM start to kiss and tell
Hugs and kisses, man, don't tell me 'bout no switches
I'll be rockin' every fuckin' chain I own next visit, ayy
I be with some bodyguards like Whitney
Top say drop, your little midget ass better fuckin'
(Whoo Kid)
Ayy
[Verse 1]
I could never be nobody number-one fan
Your first number one, I had to put it in your hand
You pussies can't get booked outside America for nan'
I'm out in Tokyo because I'm big in Japan
I'm the hitmaker y'all depend on
Backstage in my city, it was friendzone
You won't ever take no chain off of us
How the fuck you big steppin' with a size-seven men's on?
This the bark with the bite, nigga, what's up?
I know my picture on the wall when y'all cook up
Extortion baby, whole career, you been shook up
'Cause Top told you, "Drop and give me fifty," like some push-ups, huh
Your last one bricked, you really not on shit
They make excuses for you 'cause they hate to see me lit
Pull your contract 'cause we gotta see the split
The way you doin' splits, bitch, your pants might rip
You better do that motherfuckin' show inside the bity
Maroon 5 need a verse, you better make it witty
Then we need a verse for the Swifties
Top say drop, you better drop and give 'em fifty
Pipsqueak, pipe down
You ain't in no big three, SZA got you wiped down
Travis got you wiped down, Savage got you wiped down
Like your label, boy, you in a scope right now
And you gon' feel the aftermath of what I write down
I'm at the top of the mountain, so you tight now
Just to have this talk with your ass, I had to hike down
Big difference 'tween Mike then and Mike now
What the fuck is this, a twenty-v-one, nigga?
What's a prince to a king? He a son, nigga
Get more love in the city that you from, nigga
Metro, shut your ho ass up and make some drums, nigga
Yeah, I'm the 6ix God, I'm the frontrunner
Y'all nigga manager was Chubbs lil' blunt runner
Claim the 6ix and you boys ain't even come from it
And when you boys got rich, you had to run from it
Cash blowin' Abel bread, out here trickin' (Out here trickin')
Shit we do for bitches, he doin' for niggas (What the fuck?)
Jets, whips, chains, wicked, wicked, wicked (Wicked, wicked)
Spend it like you tryna fuck, boy, you trippin', boy, you trippin'
Drizzy Chip 'n Dale, probably got your bitch Chanel
I just got 'em done, boy, don't make me have to chip a nail
Rolling Loud stage, y'all were turnt, that was slick as hell
Shit'll probably change if your BM start to kiss and tell
Hugs and kisses, man, don't tell me 'bout no switches
I'll be rockin' every fuckin' chain I own next visit, ayy
I be with some bodyguards like Whitney
Top say drop, your little midget ass better fuckin'
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