It’s 7 p.m. Friday, it’s 95 degrees I call a stop sign because I know she for the streets I got meals knocking at my door bro, I ain’t talking about Uber Eats You play with me, you get your BMF, but I’m not Lil Meats These rappers 7 days bro with their mean, man these niggas weed They think I’m cooking wings, I’m popping in they faces like it’s grease But remember the teacher thought I was chien, I made all A’s she switched my C’s Now you just can’t be black and smart, I prove them wrong and I hope they see Nigga ain’t love my gun I sleep, win no bitty Boy I was stuck in the hood like Kenny, but I got out and put on my city It ain’t her ass, I heard she got two shots in the back, caught her Ricky She a Barbie, she made her past it, but I like her natural, send me Glorilla What she say? Huh, turn up with my niggas, yeah Turn up with my bitches, yeah, I’ma put D inches on her back like Brazilian You