You're now listening to 1999
Keep it lo-fi

Yeah, ayy
Apparently they try to get him out the picture
Pheromones are back been gone too many winters
Courthouses full of people pointin' fingers
Little did they know, It's gon' take more than that to bury me
Killin' Bills feelin' like I'm Tarantin'
We against defeat, that's not our fantasy
Lil hoe, ayy, yeah, aw, ayy
Bottles on bottles I'm talkin' Le Labo
I speak to the mic and the paper gon' follow
You might've misheard me If you think I'm lettin' you fuck with the (Fuck with the)
Ayy, fuck with the journey
If anything, I'm puttin' you on a jersey
I fucked with a freak from Berlin
She a 9 out of 10, but I'd prolly not do it again
Yeah I hate fallin' out with a bitch, ayy
I hate pillow-talking to bitches
You ridin' this dick but you don't have no interests (Ayy, ayy, ayy)
They movin' like ramen noodles way the heat turnin' all of em soft in an instant (Yeah)
That fame was my bitch for a sec'
But I'm over her now we maintaining a distance, uh

You have arrived at Cupertino Station, doors are opening
Ricky Ravioli, that's the biggest boss, baby (The biggest, baby)
Huh, yes (Let's go, ayy)

Top-down, my smoke thick (Huh)
Free throws, I don't miss (Huh)
White tees, my hat back
My bitch bad, I love this
I run past that fuck shit
That small talk, some fuck shit
Rich nigga my forecast, anything else is suspect (Boss)
Laid back, let's roll up (Boss)
Smoke good, my nose up (Boss)
Roscoe's I'm iced out (Huh)
Them nigga's know my polar (Woo)
Check this out, so hold up
Jada Pinkett, done sold dust (Hold up)
Double M, we on one
Right back with the Cold Crush
I been rich, do research (Run it)
Top-down, on three perks (Run it)
South Beach, I moonlight (Ha, ha, ha)
Niggas know what I mood like
And she know what my mood like (Ha, ha, ha)
Luc Belaire, it's a smooth night (Woo)
Dark room, I'm iced out (Iced out)
Sunrise, it's lights out (Biggest)
(Maybach Music)

(La-la-la-la-la-la-la)
(La-la-la-la-la-la-la)
(La-la-la-la-la-la-la)
(La-la-la-la)
(La-la-la-la-la-la-la)