Forever $cams

It's Lando, yo' bitch know, don't let yo' bitch go, nigga
Brrt, brrt, brrt
You either win or lose
You either win or lose
(You're not makin' this easy, Kyle)
You either win or lose, it ain't no ties in life
(It's either a dub or a L on that record)

Perfect this, perfect that, yeah, the timin' right
Tried to keep me in the dark, now I'm shinin' bright
Opper could be same height as me, we ain't eye-to-eye
If the convo ain't about no profit, then it's "Hi," and "Bye"
Shit, konnichiwa, sayonara
Feel like Sosa in some Louis loafers, you can't find his aura (woo)
Pour a five and double back like I'm Garza
Out here everyday, I'm just tryna hide from karma
So many skits pulls, so many juhgs bust'
Inhale, exhale from pain, I got a 'Wood stuffed
Drew the game plan, strapped my nuts on and got to it
Shit (brrt), that's the best thing I ever did
And to my people's, shit, I wish I was a better kid (hmm)
But I guess it all worked out
Went through tribulations in the deep, you took the surf route
First round knockout, the clerk can't take a punch
Pullin' down, powered up, get yo' cables cut
Shit, I wake up needin' syrup, not the maple stuff (ha)
BBs gave me frostbite, got my nasals stuffed
Everyone who talked down, got passed up
Terabytin' like a car with a flat, I'm jacked up (woo)
Olympic tennis team, gold on, we racked up (woo)
The cut so designer, fiend can't tell it's smacked up
Shit, it's time to act up, five M's, match what?
Bin Reaper, I could see your soul in these black Buffs
I'ma standout and I ain't even gotta stand up
Every show, scrumble in the crowd, put yo' hands up (yeah)
Juice Lee's jumpin' too (brrt)
Vanilla Buffs off the golden tints, Dunkaroos
Eight hundred horses in the Shelby when I'm comin' through
Tell a bitch I'm one of one, that mean we ain't one and two
Sippin' purple full of scam, boy, you off some hundred proof
Eyes red, I'm in grind mode, I like my hundreds blue
Been had an attitude, I ain't just becomin' rude
Year 2000, six, day and the month of June (brrt)
Shit, that's when the G.O.A.T. was born (brrt)
Every time I drop it's time to hear the G.O.A.T. perform (yeah)
European tour, shit, it's time to go explore (yeah)
You ain't never even left the city
Sold out show, times two, double set in Philly

Same shit, different day, catch me on Dequindre
(Same shit, different day, catch me on Dequindre)
It fucked me up when I text Mari and it don't deliver
Man, that shit crazy
Gettin' high for you, all Slattwoods, we ain't rollin' Swishers
(R.I.P. $cams, R.I.P. $cams)
R.I.P. 72, heart purple and it's cold as winter
In the lab reminiscin', turn into a potion mixer
Shit (shit), it don't feel the same (nah)
I still feel the pain
Best believe before you see the sun, you gon' feel some rain
R.I.P. Chris, paint the night sky blue
Can't trust em', talk loose and play the nice guy too
Mitten on my back, next-gen Slim Shady
Shoutout MadeInStyle, hold down the 6 daily
Shoutout DSM, Stan, Dee, James, Donnie
Oh, yeah and Dorian, I can't forget Ronnie
(Brrt, brrt)

Ridin' down the seven, I'm just thinkin', "Free Rich" (yeah)
My third eye open, gotta peep shit
Honor roll up a 'Wood, this a three six
All she seen is the kit, she wanna eat dick
Lil' freak bitch
Can't afford exotic, stayin' round some cookie like you Ned
Chop sound like thunder, hit you and yo' buddy like you Ted
What I'm sayin', when we slide down better play it like you dead
Lookin' at my Sprite like, "Boy, I like you better when you red"
I can't find him in the field like a Trufflin' tree
Sick you rolled a pinky finger, ain't even puffin' a G (you bum)
Almost hit my goal, and, shit, that's a hundred a week
Woulda thought it's a full moon, I'm becomin' a beast
Shit, I'm scared of the streets they ain't got no code (brrt)
I'm scared of these hoes, they'll drop yo' lo'
Shit (brrt), watch that backdoor, that is not yo' bro (nah)
You ain't got it in you, you just have to stop on go (yeah)

I ain't stopped yet, and I don't plan on it (nope)
ShittyBoyz that's for L, I'll stand on it
First rule, you get a run, you gotta put yo' mans on it
Doin' all that muggin', but I can smell the fan on him
BabyTron, he walk out, the fans put the cams on him
Play with me or one of mines, we ain't puttin' hands him
Pull up with them yammers, we'll put them blams on him
You know what it is, Forever $cams on em'
(Phew, ShittyBoyz)