We in the stack, bruh
I have animal block baboon
The valedictorian of the Yola game graduated with high honors
To serve and push that candy cane
Standing in front of my mama's house
Now I'm leaning over the railing
I'm standing on top of the couch
Runnin' my face with a brand new hundred dollar bills
In a bit, keepin' it lit, me and my clique
Hella rich, hella chicks, extra clips
Hella six, TMZ, takin' flicks
Nine times out of ten, I'ma leave with a ten
Run a little gang, maybe fuck her friend
Ask her what's her name, tell me one more game
I don't see no rank, so you ain't got no man
What about your mackin', man?
Ain't no lackin' in my mackin'
Some of my niggas in here trappin'
Some of my niggas in here flaggin'
Man, I hope they don't get to clappin'
All they clappin' I'm tryin' to hear is a female ass clap
We in the stank, bruh
Let's go turf!
Hold on, everything, they should endorse me
I swear, that should be my face on that horsey
I mean, I might be the hardest we got
Anyway, I'ma get this money regardless or not
We in this thing, bruh
If it's a thing, it's a thing

Get it on, we can end this thing, bruh
We active, we active
Turf talk too damn hard on them
Ten bottles, guess who ordered them?
Ten chains, guess who wearin' them?
Ten guns, guess who carryin' them?
Got my money first, divin' in her purse
And she can't have none of mine
I'm spendin' all the hearse
I guess it's time to get my buzz up
Leave the dope alone, turf, put the guns up
Man, it's almost gone
Ay, please feel my starry fall
We in the stank, bruh
We in the stank, bruh
We in the stank, bruh
We in the stank, bruh
We in the stank, bruh
We in the stank, bruh
We in the stank, bruh
We in the stank, bruh
We in the stank, bruh
We in the stank, bruh
We in the stank, bruh
We in the stank, bruh
We in the stank, bruh
Hey, granted
Uh, we in the stank, bruh
Pull up to the club on my iPhone
Tweet and hit at E-40
Like I'm in this thing, bruh
Some hoe nigga went to high school
It came up to me lookin' all strange
Took my sailor U-train
I'm like, you've been the lane, bruh
Get out of away
Ay, there's too many hoes up in the stank
For a nigga to be all in my ear, tryna kick it like Lu-Pain
This shit bang, it's slappin' like domestic problems
My bruh-bruh fresh out, got that look like domestic
I'm swagged up, big horsey on my shirt
Match the LV on my shoes, niggas better guard they work
I'm turnin' P.I.s, the heck, they're whole protectors
You better look down, cause if I see eyes, bruh, I'm finna check
When I'm through her purse, like Frank Gore for the first
Niggas be actin' like they hard, but they really just be nerds
Put niggas on Mac Blast, like, bruh, you gotta prove it
Mr. Fab at 40, only one's left from the movement
We in the state, bruh
We in the state, bruh