Yeah, skrrt
M-M-M-Murda
Motorsport
Yeah
Put that thing in sport
Skrrt, skrrt-skrrt
Shorty bad
Bad
Pop her like a cork
Pop it
You a dork
Woo
Never been a sport
Dork, yeah
Pull up
Woo, woo
Jumpin' out the court
Jump
Cotton candy
Drink
My cup taste like the fair
Cotton
Straight up there
Where?
We didn't take the stairs
Where?
Faced my fears
Fears
Gave my mama tears
Mama
Shiftin' gears
Shift
On the Nawf, get serious
Serious
Face all your fears, then get at me
Hit so many donuts on them backstreets
Sit so high in the nosebleeds
Yeah
Feel like I can fly, yeah
Xans, perky, check
Yeah
Bill Belichick
Take the air out the ball just so I can flex
Woo, flex
Take the air out the mall, walkin' with the sacks
Take the air out your broad
Hey
Now she can't go back
Xans, perky, check
Yeah
Bill Belichick
Take the air out the ball
Yeah
Just so I can flex
Take the air out the mall
Hey
Walkin' with the sacks
Take the air out your broad
Woo, woo, woo, E
Offset!
Uh, the coupe came imported
Hey
This season's all white, comin' snorted
White
Green Lamborghini, a tortoise
Lambo
No human being, I'm immortal
No
Patek, that A.P. full of water
Patek
Hundred K I spend on my señora
Racks
My pinkie on margarine, butter
Margarine
And my ears got McDonald's nuggets
Aye
Soon as I land on the Leer
Piguets, they wet, tears
'Guets
488, hit the gears
488
Suicide door, Britney Spears
Hey!
I'm boujee, so bitch, don't get near
Boujee
Criss Angel, make dope disappear
Voilà!
Hit the gas, it got flames out the rears
Skrrt
It's a race to the bag, get the mills
Hey!
Ride the dick like a BMX
No **** wanna be my ex
No
I love when he go on tour
'Cause he comes more when I see him less
I get upset off, I turn Offset on
I told him the other day
"Man, we should sell that porn"
Yeah, Cardi B, I'm back, bitches
I don't wanna hear I'm actin' different
Same lips that be talkin' 'bout me
Is the same lips that be ass kissin'
These hoes ain't what they say they are
And their pussy stink, they catfishin'
Stank
Same hoes that was sending shots
They reachin' out like they back itchin'
Woo
Why would I hop in some beef
Why?
When I could just hop in a Porsche?
You heard she gon' do what from who?
That's not a reliable source
No
So tell me, have you seen her?
Let me wrap my weave up
I'm the trap Selena
Dame más gasolina!
Skrrt
Motorsport
Yeah
Put that thing in sport
Skrrt, skrrt-skrrt
Shorty bad
Bad
Pop her like a cork
Pop it
You a dork
Woo
Never been a sport
Dork, yeah
Pull up
Woo, woo
Jumpin' out the court
Woo
Uh, yo
Watch your man, then you should watch your mouth
Bitches is pressed, administer mouth to mouth
You see them stats, you know what I am about
I am the champ, I'm Iron Mike in a bout
Attention, I'ma need you to face front
You don't want smoke with me, this is a laced blunt
Rap's Jackie Chan, we ain't pullin' them fake stunts
My crown won't fit on your bum ass lace fronts
Uh
You bitches catchin' a fade, shout out my **** Lil' Boosie
All of your friends'll be dead, you could get hit with that Uzi
I call him Ricky, he say he love me like Lucy
Get you a straw, ****, you know this pussy is juicy
This Givenchy is custom-made, now you can't get it at Saks, though
I don't work in no office, but they copyin' and that's facts though
I ain't tryna be violent, but if Nicki on it, it slaps, ho
Get you lined for that paper like a loose leaf when that strap blow
I'm with a couple bad bitches that'll rip the party
If Quavo the QB, I'm Nick Lombardi
Pull up in the space coupe, I done linked with Marty
I can actually afford to get a pink Bugatti
"Aye yo, Nick', didn't you just do a hit with Gotti?"
That too, but my **** send hits like Gotti
It's a wrap like them things on the head of a Saudi
Bitch, you my son, go and sit on the potty
Rrrrrr
Brand new Chanels
Chanels
I stepped on runnin' from twelve
Twelve
Ain't made no commitment with none of you bitches
'Cause money is treatin' me well
Uh-uh
If Nicki should show me her titty
Right hand on the Bible, I swear I won't tell
Swear
If I get to play with that kitty
I wonder how many platinums we gon' sell
Albums
Pop a Perc' and catch a feel
Pop one
Now I cannot feel the wheel
Woah
My chest bad, give me chills
And the left hand on Richard Mille
Ice
Not the watch, but the price on the ice
If you don't know what that is
Huh?
Motorsport, motorville
Abort the mission, that's a kill
Pew, pew, brrr
Motorsport
Yeah
Put that thing in sport
Skrrt, skrrt-skrrt
Shorty bad
Bad
Pop her like a cork
Pop it
You a dork
Woo
Never been a sport
Dork, yeah
Pull up
Woo, woo
Jumpin' out the court
Jump
Cotton candy
Drink
My cup taste like the fair
Cotton
Straight up there
Where?
We didn't take the stairs
Where?
Faced my fears
Fears
Gave my mama tears
Mama
Shiftin' gears
Shift
On the Nawf, get serious
Serious
Girl, yeah, yeah
I wish my grandma could see me
Grandma
Take away, pain ain't easy
Pain
That why I fire up a bleezy
Fire
**** not cappin' this season

Writer(s): Quavious Marshall, Kiari Cephus, Kirshnick Ball, Onika Maraj, Belcalis Almanzar, Shane Lindstrom, Kevin Gomringer, Tim Gomringer, Ramón Luis Ayala & Eddie Avila.