Pink

It’s all about the mula in my eyes
Maggiano’s, I used to eat Popeyes
I’m so high, if I jump, I can skydive
My lil' bitch want to stay in them high-rises
State attorney, I be in on my sides
Came a long way from working the spare tires
I’m Margiela moonwalking, my pants high
I still get the work from a hispanic guy
Plug named Stewie, but he not a family guy
He say he from a hood, he from Brandywine
Give the bop up, don’t pull down your panty line
How he hating but he still a fan of mine?
Went to jail when I first seen my granny cry
I’ma creep like a fox, ain’t no channel 5
Bet I stay in the field like a dandelion
Was locked up but I still had to beat the block
Foreign cars, we don’t slide in no Equinox
I’m outside and I still do not see the opps
I just might overdose like I’m Speaker Knockerz
Got a big clip extension, no baby Glock
Boujee gun, bitches greener than baby bop
Was in school selling tres and them tater tots
.556s go through his Mercedes top
Out the U-U I aim at your Mustang
You my target like I’m at a gun range
I was just 'bout to hit but her son came
Ain’t no school, why you niggas on Funbrain?
I strongarm the plug like I’m on steroids
Feel me knock, let me in, Uncle Elroy
Brr, beep, beep, that’s the scale noise
Big revolver in my hand, look like Hellboy
«Hold up, Xan, what did you go to jail for?»
Niggas snitching that I took an L for
Keep a stick, I ain’t playing no P4
You ain’t trapping, so what you got weed for?
Got two pints for the low, I’m out B-More
If it ain’t 'bout the money, then keep going
Missy Elliott, chopper you freak on
Call my chopper R Kelly, it’s peed on
Yeah, I made this song, I got pink on
I made this song 'cause I got pink on
I got pink, uh, uh
What you say?
Fuck, I messed up, holmes, uh