Don’t Talk To Me Petey Plastic

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[Chorus]
Run it by my agent, run it by my bitch
Run it by my boyfriend, run it by my clique
Don't talk to me, don't talk to me
Don't talk to me, don't talk to me
Run it by my driver, run it by my stylist
Run it by my makeup artist, run it by my pilot
Don't talk to me, don't talk to me
Don't talk to me, don't talk to me

[Verse 1]
Now I hate making chat with a bland bitch
I never asked a single question 'bout your brand, bitch
You need a favor then you reach out to my man, bitch
You know your place, you know you're nothing but a fan, bitch
I hit L.A. and all the faggots goin' crazy
I'm racking lines inside a pussy, pink Mercedes, baby
Hold up, hold my drink, I'ma let y'all know what the fuck I think
I'ma let y'all know who the fuck I am
Petey Plastic, who the fuck you stan?

[Pre-Chorus]
I'ma let y'all little bitches wake up
You talk 'bout me, you can get your face cut
Fake fuck, cryin' like I wouldn't be back
I just tell 'em that I thought the albums wouldn't be wack (Who's that?)