(Please, Press Play)
Aye, aye
Yeah I'm next up
Yeah I'm next up
Yeah, yeah, yeah (aye, aye, aye)
Yeah I'm next up, flexing major things
I just dropped an album, now these bitches want a ring
Got no time for love I want the money and the fame
Baby get closer, want nothing but the brain
I got lots of dogs, that would kill for this shit
Rope around your neck, bout' to throw you in a ditch
Tell them you're the realest, but a punk in real life
Ivy got the blade, finna cut you up tonight
He wants war
I bring the smoke
Knocking on your door, as you turn to a ghost
Cuz your life is toast, bitch I am the host
Welcome to the slaughterhouse where all we do is show
How your life is a joke, either sink or you float
Your name in the book, like murder he wrote
Got you on your knees, like you're praying to the pope
Slicing up your neck, with the blade inside my coat
Bitch