text: Sleiman
  Iver 
  Ho thicker, diamonds on my neck flicker
  Drug dealer, professional pot whipper
  Seven figures, got your bitches fuckin quicker
  She want a picture, I tell her no, I know she bitter
  Niggas cuttin’ up on the internet
  Fuck nigga, we aint into that
  We end up in your crib where your family at
  Got the .40 on my hip, yeah, thats my stick, yeah
  She wanna fuck for a grip, yeah, on my blick, yeah
  Couple bands on my shit, yeah, I’ma rip, yeah
  With the shits, yeah, thats my clique, yeah
  MAC-11, 9 milli, ridin with it 
  Ima hit him up, Ima fuckin kill him 
  Run up on him, masked with a black .40 
  Hit ’em in his hoodie, no A Boogie
  Pu-pu-pull up in the black Benz
  Clip for the .9s and the MAC-10’s
  Beefy on the molly, niggas want my money
  But when they see me coming, I can see them niggas runnin
  I see them niggas runnin
  Let them niggas act, cause they bitches they be lovin’, yeah
  Blood time, blood rhyme, nigga, this is blood line
  Niggas gettin stupid, try to get by
  Pu-pu-pull up in the black Benz
  Clip for the .9s and the MAC-10s
  MAC-11, 9 milli, ridin with it 
  Ima hit him up, Ima fuckin kill him 
  Run up on him, masked with a black .40 
  Hit em in his hoodie, no A Boogie
  Sleiman
  Let that shit breathe