Vulture Island V2 (with Lil Baby)

Yeah
 I got Erv in this bitch, real ninth ward shit
 Vulture Island
 If you know, you know (B.loadin)
 Yeah, you wan' tell somebody business?
 Tell them how you let me fuck
 I don't wanna hear 'bout none of your business
 Ain't no Glock involved
 My mind so fucked up, I see murders chillin' in the park
 Talk on the net, I'll make my vulture go and flat his heart
 Real stepper, he got six toes, he a creature
 Project every day, he don't give no fucks, he tryna lead some
 Niggas know what happened 'bout 4-9 when he bleed
 Fuck cuffin' a ho, my bro put niggas on the tee
 Killing all the rats, I'm robbin' all the robbers
 I'm a real trapstar from Vulture Island
 Alright, don't move wrong in this bitch, I'm finna shot some
 Alright, the way he swing his dreads, you think he rasta
 Alright, the Trackhawk start sound like it fire
 Alright, I'm cheating with my main ho, right on side of me
 Alright, yeah, yeah, lotta money, lotta cars, lotta drugs
 Yeah, yeah, niggas talkin', take his head clean off
 Yeah-yeah, molly, molly, yeah-yeah, molly water
 Yeah-yeah, drug sex, yeah-yeah, fuck me harder
 Yeah-yeah, yeah-yeah, yeah-yeah
 Yeah-yeah, yeah-yeah, yeah-yeah
 Yeah-yeah, yeah
 Yeah, shake that ass bitch, bleed how I bleed
 I'm used to puttin' bitches on they knees, nigga
 She tryna throw a sign, then throw a V (alright)
 You tryna fuck a boss? Then fuck with me (bitch)
 Alright, I'm getting to that cheddar, to that cheese, nigga
 Did a ten piece in the feds like he a chicken
 Cover my face after we fuck, I don't wanna kiss her
 And tell the truth, I'm just a product of the trenches
 Yeah, I spent a thousand on these sweats, I don't even wanna take them off
 I spent a thousand on this pussy, I think I'm gonna fuck her raw
 This Burberry hoodie cost me a bag (yeah-yeah)
 Yeah, I put her feelings in my lap, nigga
 Yeah, I'm comin' straight from out the trap, nigga
 Yeah, a piece cost 28
 He played, this pussy lame
 I'm used to, I'm used to, I'm so, tryna dodge a case
 Make that ass clap
 Make that ass clap
 Make that ass clap
 Make that ass clap
 It's the remix
 I might trip out on my Finsta, you can't follow me
 This ho a G.O.A.T., her nigga don't know she really for the streets
 Ain't too much rappin', ain't no postin, that's my type of beef
 You already tried this shit, and died with it, that's fine with me, alright
 Lost it all before and went and got it back, alright
 I got a record deal, but I'm still gettin' active, alright
 Them young niggas do drill inside a stolen Trackhawk, alright
 If you ain't got no cash, it's your fault
 Real God, she get on her knees, I answer all her prayers
 He a fraud, I can go back to the block if all else fail
 Real sharp, big homie been taught me how to be a player
 New house got an elevator, come from gamblin' on the stairs
 Pack in, they done send so much money for Wham, that shit on backorder
 Really on some hunnid Ms a year, shit, I just act normal
 Really wanna show 'em how I feel, but I just lay the beat
 Young bitch keep a pole, but she don't strip, she with the fuckery
 A lot of niggas know to keep it cordial 'cause they can't fuck with me
 Youngins on the bottom of the gutter, I keep a buck on me
 Yeah-yeah, she want me to fuck her with no rubber on
 Yeah-yeah, I'ma pay whatever to get my brother home
 Yeah-yeah, we got all these guns, it ain't no one of one
 Yeah-yeah, we gon' up here and niggas don't wanna come
 Make that ass clap
 Make that ass clap
 Make that ass clap
 Make that ass clap