Hellcat Jay Montana (Ft. MGM Lett & Rylo Rodriguez)

[Intro]
(Al Geno on the track)

[Chorus: Rylo Rodriguez]
Bitch, this a Hellcat, this ain't no Scatpack
This not a Beretta, it's a Glock 17 matte black
Hundred bags OG, but can't throw you one, I am not that
Don't put your camera on me, lil' ho, we just fuckin', this is not that
Beefin' with us, yeah, you dead
That Piru left that home red
Gotta put shit on your head
Ho, don't lay down on my bed
Get down, bend over on the floor
I'm high, but let's fuck on the low
Bought an FN with a red light
Even though I'm on the go

[Verse 1: Rylo Rodriguez]
Fuck them guys, they know it's up
My neck and wrist is frozen up
Project baby, candy lady
I spent a rack on frozen clocks
Every gun, go load 'em up
My shit bumpin', you can see it puss
Stop by CVS and bought deodorant 'cause gettin' cheese a must
These hoes got more money than a nigga, six racks, ass did
Brought the number seven to the ocean, that was catfish
Rollie, Rollie, I still ain't blow up
Holy moly, this foreign do donuts
They hear me 'fore they see me comin'
Pray my niggas touch down, Michael Thomas
She went to suck my dick, but it ain't turn me on, she had on a bonnet
Lil' ho keep on playin', I told her, "Whatever, mate," 'cause she from London
Ain't have shit, but now I'm royal
I'm a hotboy, I'ma shoot my shot at Toya
Pray bro beat his case, I'm tryna get Metro Boomin to be his lawyer
Digi' dash, no scammin', ho, they filled with cash
She swipe the card, I swiped her heart
Bros in the yard, they knives are sharp
Fifty racks, my jewelry on
Roll through the hood, I stopped and parked
Hundred shots, I don't drink no liquor
You do the math, I don't like the bar