(Coupe) Yeah, talking to ghosts, the topic is dope Prop the chopper up right by the door What's in my hand? The five and the four Fire in my hand when I'm in the 4 (4, 4) I'd be more scared of dying alone, not of a foe Thousands piling up all on the floor Fine shit, line 'em up all in a row Body shit and she kill 'em for real Choirs'll tell you I'm him, for real Scars'll tell where I've been, for real Eyes will tell you I've been for real Yeah, eyes will tell 'em Yeah, eyes will tell what you didn't reveal Vibe will tell what you didn't reveal I ain't gon' tell 'em, my lips are sealed I count up so fast, the ride get jealous The whip so fine, the vibes get jealous The 40 so fine, the 9 get jealous Ain't nobody buying the lies you sellin' Finding my mind on the mozzarella We riding with choppers, they not propellers You know I was bendin' blocks with felons You know I want m's and not the letter Pup on the chain, it had to go platinum Spending my days in Paris for fashion Spend a few g's, that just for the jeans I didn't know the name, I had to go ask 'em Commas on commas, it look like I'm havin' Numbers on numbers, it look like a fraction Fuck if you know 'em, you know we gon' tax 'em Fuck if you know 'em, you know we gon'— Talking to ghosts, the topic is dope Prop the chopper up right by the door What's in my hand? The five and the four Fire in my hand when I'm in the 4 (4, 4) I'd be more scared of dying alone, not of a foe Thousands piling up all on the floor Fine shit, line 'em up all in a r— Hol' up, front street, front street, front street Put that shit on front street, front street, front street Fucked her in a top suite Her man know she not 'sleep Know they wanna copy, know they gonna copy Hol' up, I'm doubling down, I'm doubling up Them numbers go up, we cover the ground They run with the sound and cover it up We run in they houses (doo-too-too-too) I run in this bitch (too-too-too-too) They rather run miles than run into pup I'm coming to terms with coming in first I come in a 'vert, she coming to fuck She ride around with my gun in a clutch The numbers and commas is jumbling up Nobody told me to get on my hustle Stomach was rumbling, that was enough (enough) Huh, they wanna be tough? None of 'em come from the jungle with us None of these dummies go dumber than us Humbly, nobody humbling us I ain't from this earth (earth) I'm straight from the dirt, most of the folk from the hood I grew up playing in dirt, we laying in dirt Niggas that don't get to stay gettin' murked You don't get nothing from saying it first I ain't getting nothing from taking this perc' Pushing your luck, you lay in a hearse You pushing right up I'm new to this bitch, but knew from the jump that I would adjust the screws in this bitch Couple of mine is loose in this bitch One nigga tried, I'm losing my shit Why would I lie? I'm true to this shit Don't get my vibe confused in this bitch Don't get my mind confused in this bitch I don't know what I might do in this bitch, I'm— Talking to ghosts, the topic is dope Prop the chopper up right by the door What's in my hand? The five and the four Fire in my hand when I'm in the 4 (4, 4) I'd be more scared of dying alone, not of a foe Thousands piling up all on the floor Fine shit, line 'em up all in a row