text: Blasian on the track, boy
  We coming from broken homes
  My niggas still smoking cones
  And bitches knowing all the songs
  The Rollie need frozen stones
  And we be trapping on them phones like BT
  And she aint ever phoning home like E.T
  I be in the coldest zones 
  I fuck her with the Rolex on 
  Yeah
  The price too low, we ain’t pulling up to that show 
  Im repping for the O, the CEO, and I got the shooters on go 
  I made a type of money I aint seen before
  Paying out the lord, tryna beat the law
  It’s 4 AM, I might creep some more
  Bad little bitch, she gon freak some more
  Yeah, yeah, uh
  The bottom aint a place for me
  Im running to the money impatiently
  In a room full of niggas you would hate to meet 
  All I ever did is wait patiently
  But that was never getting none done for me
  We strapped on the body like dungarees
  She wanna fuck the kid and make love with me
  The zone still lit, and you know the throne still lit, ayy
  You smoking one spliff, Im smoking one zip
  I tell em niggas get it how you live, yeah
  Youre looking at your wrist, and you aint got a crib
  I tell them niggas get it how you live, yeah
  We’re buying more bricks, we’re buying more sticks
  They told me I should get it how I live
  We coming from broken homes 
  My niggas still smoking cones 
  And bitches knowing all the songs
  The Rollie need frozen stones 
  And we be trapping on them phones like BT
  And she aint ever phoning home like E.T
  I be in the coldest zones 
  I fuck her with the Rolex on
  Brown sugar, I was just rolling stones 
  Heron Preston long black coat 
  Heroin in my pores 
  I was in an all black cab with a bad b
  She had to ask if this is Fake Taxi
  Need to take this kilo home 
  Nokia, all my phones 
  Still stressed, got a broken dome 
  Bought a ting just to match my clothes
  No face, no case, straight ace
  Wimbledon Rolex on 
  Nafe could’ve hit her with the ice on deck
  No Riz gotta bill it with Smallz 
  No, prick, I dont answer your calls 
  Broken homes and it wasnt my fault 
  Got some bags in a bag in the vault
  Got some dude from Swiss on my coat 
  This aint no joke
  Jugg on my own
  Got me a house on the road
  I’m real and its all in my bone 
  Broken homes but I didnt fold 
  I got me some cash and it doesnt fold
  I smoke me a zip, I sign out from the world 
  We coming from broken homes 
  My niggas still smoking cones 
  And bitches knowing all the songs 
  The Rollie need frozen stones 
  And we be trapping on them phones like BT
  And she aint ever phoning home like E.T
  I be in the coldest zones
  I fuck her with the Rolex on
  I fuck her with the Rolex on 
  I fuck her to all of my songs 
  I put a chandelier in my home 
  Im hopping on a Lear and Im gone 
  I fuck her like a dog need a bone 
  And my thirty-pointer chokers all rose 
  Now I spend a hundred thousand on clothes 
  Fashion week, I did a video for Vogue 
  Ask around, I been off the porch 
  Her ass fat and her hair real long 
  Skinny nigga and Im smokin on the narcs 
  Run 4 and I get in my zone 
  In the kitchen, had to cook it with a fork 
  Lifes changed now my car is a Porsche 
  And that nigga dripping harder then ya boy 
  So now my niggas have a party with ya whore 
  Hit the club and pop a bottle with ya boy 
  We got money, gotta let these bitches know 
  Paint a picture, got a A+ in art 
  In MIA with the top out the car 
  Want a star, so I iced out the star 
  Fuck the cops, we dont live by the law 
  He a bitch, I been rich with a saw 
  You lil niggas dont know what I saw 
  We coming from broken homes
  My niggas still smoking cones
  And bitches knowing all the songs
  The Rollie need frozen stones
  And we be trapping on them phones like BT
  And she aint ever phoning home like E.T
  I be in the coldest zones
  I fuck her with the Rolex on