Sith Lord

Ayy, ayy, ayy (Ooh shit, that's a Danny G beat)
 Do the dash in a Scat, fly it like a X-wing
 Bitch, I'm Mr. Pull Up To The Bank And Make The Check Ping
 Back to back champ, yo team losing like the tenth seed
 I'll cut the traction off and make the 'Vette squeak
 Ksubi jean rocker, riding 'round with some bean poppers
 Everybody five plus, we don't do the team hoppers
 Scam vet, 2016, I would've green dot her
 7.62s demolish shit, this a tree chopper
 Punching like a boxer, I don't box but we can box you up
 Three five of Jelly Bean Pie, taking toxic puffs
 How is you the source? Placed an order, you ain't got enough
 Dog Shit Militia, cracking cards got my pockets stuffed
 Made some shit off that one shit, shoutout Donald Trump
 Samsung freezer, ten minutes, turn the Wock' to slush
 It's gon' be a long night if I pop the trunk
 Grab a coat, it's a cold night when I rock the buffs
 You didn't know? It's time to get to it
 Bro hitting whippits, clutching Glocky in this bitch zooted
 Real shooter, only swish too
 Tool got a ladder, hit his crib tryna improve it
 Chop talking, Wock' dropper, swerving in the newest Demon
 I just hit the mall again 'cause I was Gucci fiending
 If we ever had a conversation, I was rudely speaking
 Better have that same energy when that tooly swinging
 Head nodding 'cause this song a hit
 Crackhead, spilling red on 'em, I be dogging kicks
 Upgraded ten on it, finna frost the kicks
 .223s knock the dreads off him if he talking shit, huh
 Vanilla giffies in the trunk, in the rental road running
 Beamed up, Darth Maul, bro double pole clutching
 You blowing up her phone? I got her in here toe touching
 This drum mag' real as me, it's a whole hunnid
 Head to toe, check her down like a Louis mannequin
 Skywalking off the Runtz, I feel like Luke and Anakin
 Drip God, damn near a pool I'm standing in
 In the newest pair of Crocs, blow, scooping packages
 If it's up, we gon' handle it
 Uncle Scam, best believe that I'm taxing him
 This shit getting easy, I don't need the practicing
 You gon' end up head on the curb if you flash a blick
 In my Air Forces like a Jedi
 I pull up from wherever, bitch, I got some deadeye
 Widebody, hogging two lanes, this a red eye
 He said I won't hit his bitch but bet I, huh
 Lemme stop, cooking up, Betty Crock
 Dime bag copper? Boy, that's you, I don't petty shop
 Looking like I got expelled in these Fendi flops
 Thigh pad in these 'Miri jeans, lost a heavy knot
 Catch him at the light, we gon' leave him with a totaled whip
 I don't stress no more 'cause I know I'm it
 The sauce ain't for sale, that shit over with
 Heard yo unky crying in the trap, tryna hold a brick
 Old-ass, poor-ass, bitch
 Ayy, ShittyBoyz