Bad Bitches & Vodka

Uh
Yeah
Jets
Super Tecmo Bowl
Uh
Month five
I'm not tired

Uh
Bad bitches and vodka
Used to catch me everytime
But I'm so much better than I was
Focused on the grind
Money is the baseline to life's soundtrack
Had to tell my homeboy
You can kill all them niggas from the otherside
But none of that'll bring our dog back
See the rationale goes out the window
When the city knew his murder victim is your kinfolk
I seen it all through the weed smoke
Posted on the dock where I keep my speedboat
I got a real bitch, roll hard for me all summer
In the winter Imma throw her a mink coat
Hood niggas love when I come back home and kick it
'Cause they know I keep a pound of the out of town sticky
I don't save nothing, I blaze it all with 'em
Chop up, all 'bout my business in many divisions
I give all my good friends job positions
We all make good ends
We eating and chilling, ain't tripping off nothing
Close million dollar deals by pushing the same button
I hear these niggas, they ain't saying nothing
I swear it's like they're making up words or something
We own this city and let you run it for us
While we make moves in London
Hot Spitta, call my flow McLovin'
I'm Superbad, you super trash
You stupid ass
Your flow redundant
Ya'll falling off
We watching, we love it

Yeah
FS Jets where haven't we been yet?
Uh
Super Tecmo Bowl
Yeah
Bitches know