That pint don’t come sealed, n***a, I don’t want it
I trap out the bando, n***a, like it’s haunted
HoodWolf, leave me with the junkies in the dungeon
I still serve a n***a a bale of the onion
Better go ask your b**h, I been getting money
Real Candler Road n***a, real Candler Road n***a
I’m dressing like I was Zoboomafoo
Got lions and snakes on my Gucci shoes
Poured up a deuce, I rolled up a blunt or two
Your b**h wanna f** when she come through
Sensei busting up bricks, I do kung-fu
Good aim when shooting, I’m hunting you
Caught a cold from my ice, ah-choo
All black Ghost pull up, peek-a-boo
I’m smoking that platinum cookies, that’s the best
I got the juice, I pour up that Hitech
Four pockets full, looking like thigh pads
Talking that gangsta sh**, no, you ain’t ’bout that Hoodrich
I keep the strap in my Louie bag
f** on your b**h, give her back, I’m through with that
Filthy rich like the sewer, don’t hang with no rats
Designer my fashion, I’m still sipping Act
I got them cookies, they fresh out the oven
Juuging and packing, I’m making sh** double
Four in the 20, I like my sh** muddy
f** on that hoe, then I call up her buddy
Rich n***a status, I keep the strap on me
My red bottoms made from the hair of a pony
My young n***as murking, they scared to be opponents
Talking that f** sh**, we pulling right up on it
That pint don’t come sealed, n***a, I don’t want it
I trap out the bando, n***a, like it’s haunted
HoodWolf, leave me with the junkies in the dungeon
I still serve a n***a a bale of the onion
Better go ask your b**h, I’ve been getting money
Real Candler Road n***a, you the [?]
I gotta meet the plug way out in Conyers
I got the paper like folder dividers
Buy the work, no cosigners
Real street n***a, I ain’t taking no dummies
Can’t get it the way we trying, n***a, you’ll die
I can seen a n***a acting like me, stop lying
I’m Pablo the Plug, you ain’t sold a dime
I’m in the concrete jungle with the lions
I need the pints, n***a, I don’t buy lines
When I get bricks, yeah, I’m paying for mine
360 ring, why the f** would I sign?
I’m dressing like I was Zoboomafoo
Got lions and snakes on my Gucci shoes
Poured up a deuce, I rolled up a blunt or two
Your b**h wanna f** when she come through
Sensei busting up bricks, I do kung-fu
Good aim when shooting, I’m hunting you
Caught a cold from my ice, ah-choo
All black golds pull up, peek-a-boo
I’m smoking that platinum cookies, that’s the best
I got the juice, I pour up that Hitech
Four pockets full, looking like thigh pads
Talking that gangsta sh**, no, you ain’t ’bout that Hoodrich
I keep the strap in my Louie bag
f** on your b**h, give her back, I’m through with that
Filthy rich like the sewer, don’t hang with no rats
Designer my fashion, I’m still sipping Act
I’m in New York, smoking Cali, sipping on Texas
African diamonds, I flooded my necklace
Popped me a Perc and a Xan, I’m reckless
n***a, don’t ask for no bricks through no message
I got the OG, they call me a veteran
Beenie Man, dressing like David Letterman
Tools, I’m a contractor like Mexicans
Oooh, quit all that capping and flexing
b**h, I’m in the trap, quit testing
I’m bench pressing weights like professional wrestling
Spent fifty thousand on a chopper, investment
Hundred thousand went in price of the check-in
Bales in, I’ma drive them on Gresham
Twenty thousand, I just dropped on my bezel
They call me Pablo, they know I was special
Just look at my neck, I just won a gold medal
On my fifth foreign, I’m geeking [?]
I f** with the white, they say it’s the devil
Never had sh**, now I’m rich, I call that incredible
Cookies, weed, I ain’t talking about edible
f** on that hoe, go get money what you better do
I’ve been the plug, $200,000 ahead of you
Xans and the lean, I stay on the medical
Every day I wake up, I go get me some revenue
I’m dressing like I was Zoboomafoo
Got lions and snakes on my Gucci shoes
Poured up a deuce, I rolled up a blunt or two
Your b**h wanna f** when she come through
Sensei busting up bricks, I do kung-fu
Good aim when shooting, I’m hunting you
Caught a cold from my ice, ah-choo
All black golds pull up, peek-a-boo
I’m smoking that platinum cookies, that’s the best
I got the juice, I pour up that Hitech
Four pockets full, looking like thigh pads
Talking that gangsta sh**, no, you ain’t ’bout that Hoodrich
I keep the strap in my Louie bag
f** on your b**h, give her back, I’m through with that
Filthy rich like the sewer, don’t hang with no rats
Designer my fashion, I’m still sipping Act