On my Ps and Qs
I be steppin’ in Jimmy Choo
Know she just want the loot
You ain’t gettin’ nothing, you just get the boot
I just want her mind
I’ma fuck then kick her out
You just runnin’ your mouth
You ain’t ’bout what you say you ’bout
I got two bad twins in my DM tryna fuck on me right now
I got two of my niggas on the block all day tryna trap until the sun come down
Still be comfortable ’round killers even when all of the guns are out
If a nigga play with Jack, I bet they show up at your mama house
If a nigga play with Jack, I bet they show up where your mama stay
Steppin’ in designer shoes, my killers livin’ luxury
Most these rap niggas be gay, I hope that they don’t talk to me
Be all on the opp dick but lowkey tryna fuck with me
Nah, you can’t fuck with me
Fire, keep it tucked with me
She lied, she say she love the Z
Didn’t get mad, gave her my dick to eat
If she get mad, still better not use teeth
I’m going days hoe call Uber Eats
Im going days hoe I got too much beef
Everywhere I go pocket rocket on me
I fuck with DJ he keep my opps in the scope
Real street nigga down a tye that’s a tote
Real street nigga never doin the most
Like August alstina fucked a rich nigga hoe
I’m that first prince from Haiti who can’t go broke
I’m that nigga that ain’t have shit but a little bit of hope
I’m that nigga who was in the mall with 20K, and spent all that shit on clothes
On my Ps and Qs
I be steppin’ in Jimmy Choo
Know she just want the loot
You ain’t gettin’ nothing, you just get the boot
I just want her mind
I’ma fuck then kick her out
You just runnin’ your mouth
You ain’t ’bout what you say you ’bout
I got two bad twins in my DM tryna fuck on me right now
I got two of my niggas on the block all day tryna trap until the sun come down
Still be comfortable ’round killers even when all of the guns are out
If a nigga play with Jack, I bet they show up at your mama house
Lil’ nigga, you play, get popped
If you play, better play with Glocks
Caught him lacking on his block
And he ended up right on Fox
All that talking now his dead ass all up on the fucking news
Big stepper, I done smooshed his ass, got blood all on my shoes
I don’t listen to rules, baby, I just do whatever I want
Sorry to be rude, baby, leave that ho so nonchalant
They got no clue how I ran up these blues, I got a magic wand
I don’t give a fuck who rock Christian Dior, bitch, go ask I’m the Don
Ayy I’m the Don won, ayy, I tote big guns
Ayy, might shoot you for fun
Ayy, boy, you run, you dumb
Boy, I swear if you run, that’s tragic
I’ma chase you down and let you have it
I be dressing classic while I tote ratchets
Still fucking project hoes, swear I got bad habits
On my Ps and Qs
I be steppin’ in Jimmy Choo
Know she just want the loot
You ain’t gettin’ nothing, you just get the boot
I just want her mind
I’ma fuck then kick her out
You just runnin’ your mouth
You ain’t ’bout what you say you ’bout
I got two bad twins in my DM tryna fuck on me right now
I got two of my niggas on the block all day tryna trap until the sun come down
Still be comfortable ’round killers even when all of the guns are out
If a nigga play with Jack, I bet they show up at your mama house