Lil Baby, Young Thug, Future - Dum, Dumb, and Dumber

Intro Four stones in the ear, D's at the bottom GA certified before I was GIA certified Mr. M-In-Cash anytime you see me, you know? Only a few rappers play a duck to catch a duck, you know? Trickin' niggas who trickin' niggas, you know? Supercar-drivin', Gulf Stream-flyin', designer-wearin' golden child, you know? Wham (Wheezy outta here) let's go Verse 1 Hoppin' off a plane to a Matchbox, hunnid time platinum, fuck a plaque Bulletproof the tires, run flat (I'm goin'), cutthroat, I give her one chance (go 'head) Slut her out and gave her one band (no problem), 25 cars, one man (I pop 'em) Driveway like a mini dealership (come park it), he went sour, cut the bidness with him (you bold) Crack smoker, I was livin' with 'em (auntie 'nem), weird hos, I ain't dealin' with 'em (can't see me) Overseas, they love a real nigga (European), she don't like it, but she deal with it (she stingy) 'Rari's back-to-back, that's tough (two million), hear us 'round the corner, that's us (skrrt) Puttin' on stuff, best dressed (nighttime), flip phone, black Nike Tech (my kind) We done-done it all, what's next? (Too picky), Boss Man, name on the checks (big bidness) First one's come through trim (literally), dipset, Jim Jones baller (big bucker) Life of a fuckin' hustlerholic (I'm hustlin'), she know not to test me, I'ma call her (hush) Bro in prison, livin' through a pack (and), farewell, I don't see a scratch (look close) She ain't mine if she don't got me tatted (no way), OCD, need everything intact (clean up) Bitches tryna play me like I'm wack (bitch, who?), real P, I bet' not go for that Ridin' through the trey in all black, pullin' up on Pluto in the six (bird gang) Hood full of dope-slangin' trickster (my neighbors), I come from that four, I'm a real one (I came up) Bridge Yeah, nigga, King Spider back I don't even believe I was locked up, for real, for real I was havin' my way the whole time, fool, nam sayin'? (Yeah) Verse 2 Two Lamb' coupes, four Lamb' trucks, pullin' up, what the fuck? (What the fuck?) Neck, wrist, fingers slush (eeh), order hunnid G's, that's us (hee) New Rolls Cullinan truck (skrrt), dog on the side like a bus (yeah) Shawty mad, ain't goin' back and forth (uh), never heard a rich nigga fuss (no) Heard these niggas goin' out sad, 'Rari truck came with a bag Only fuckin' overseas shit, these U.S. bitches kinda bad College bitch, I made her leave a frat, fucked my brother, gave the bitch a pass Trappin' in the studio, I'm glad, break a bale, the junkie get the trash (hee) I was taught to pay a bitch to leave (yeah), I go Birk', Chanel for the fleece (Birks) Four 'em at a time like a sheikh (four), I been on a boat, screamin', "Ski" (ski) Saint Laurent, they bring it to the beach (beach), she was Portuguese and Middle East (whoo) She snorted off the ki' (snotty), got her screamin' R.I.P. to Keed (R.I.P. to Keed) Niggas can't stand us (uh-huh), doggy, put your man's up (okay) Walked her down in Lanvins (yeah), pocket full of grandparents (okay) Old school, the Trans Am one (skrrt), Cullinan, the ambulance one (skrrt) You good, your man's can't come (yeah), I don't give a fuck 'bout nothin' Yeah Verse 3 Brr, brr, ski, ay, say gang Pour it on thick like syrup, elevator pad at the crib Shoppin' bags all on the floor, never seen me twice with a ho Backyard vibes by the ocean, driveway look like a car show 350 million, I'm the G.O.A.T., custom leather Pucci on the door 50 birds of dog on my wrist, cocaine jumpin' off my bitch 32 shots with the glitch, talkin' Vicks, then we talkin' Chris Micro mini with a beam, puttin' the side hos in Celine Geekin' off the millions like a bean, push a button and make your mama grieve Eat it up, she workin' for a boss, out the country, livin' like a boss Princess-cut and showin' all the flaws, graduated, cookin' up the raw Pushin' skateboard, Tony Hawk, crankin' up the car when I talk Alligator, Hermès stuff, dropped eight dollars on a truck Codeine bottles, they for us, put them legal sticks on the bus Off tour, straight to the pit, three bad bitches gettin' hit Solitaires made they eyes squint, smell the dirty money through the vents House full of dead presidents Wham Spider Ay, say gang