[Intro: Nym Lo]
Out on Exuma Island, on the beach with a hunnid iguanas
My son grab one by the tail, lil' nigga wildin'
Smilin', thinking 'bout the paper I been pilin'
Every dish is carefully curated or it offends my pallet
Flyer than a pilot, never need a stylist
'Less a booth is empty in my salon and that's on God
Young business owner, no diploma
Champagne sipper, never sober
Foreign car, European motor
[Verse 1: Nym Lo]
I'm comin' back for everything they owe us (That's right)
Jewels chunky, Carti' robust
Foot on necks, I'm not gon' slow up (Nope)
Anything to get my dough up (Cash)
With a bitch that love to suck a rich nigga dick until she throw up
Hol' up, big Harlem from the trenches to stardom
Used to pump on benchеs in Pradas
Crack made the fiends gimmе ten of they dollars
Sometimes eight if they promised to cash that check
And come straight back to me with the profits
I rather count cheese over gossip
Pretty waitress grate the parmesan cheese over pasta
Tryna book this eight room villa on this site plus the flights
But I can't find the button that says ''Click here to leave a deposit''
Shorty tough but I can't turn a hoe to a house wife
So I just wanna know what that mouth like and I'm out like (What?)
The trash on a Thursday, playing hard to get
Knowin' she was gon' give up the ass on the first day (Ahh)
I come from a long line of guys that was afraid to be small time
Broke a quarter key down to all dimes
Flooded the strip with a gun on my hip
She said she like to eat out, so I made her put her tongue on a bitch
Water so clear I could see eighty feet down
Stingrays brushing up against my legs, playing around
Poppin' Moet on a boat just to show 'em it's hope
They all call me the big horse but they know I'm the G.O.A.T. (Lo)
[Interlude: Nym Lo]
I'm out here on a white sandbeach with wifey an my son
Me and him got on a matchin' Burberry trunks
Wifey Burberry down too
White niggas lookin' at us like ''Who the fuck is these niggas?
How they get enough money to be where we at?''
And we got the big villa, hahaha
I'm gettin' money, nigga, LO
[Verse 2: Nym Lo]
Drawin' cargo name in the sand as he mimics my moves
White couple walkin' by, stare at my jewels and ask what I do
I say I'm a recording artist born in Harlem
Out here with my son and my wife, just lovin' my life
Long way from the block I was raised on
But when I'm on vacation, still drippy, nigga, tropical rain storm
At the swim up bar, sippin' Gonbay punches
Snuck up on me, had me hit 'cause it ain't even taste strong
A nigga flow is bomb like napalm
Put 35k on my base arm 'cause that's the one I scraped all the plates on
I'm just payin' homage just like I promised
Cracking oysters straight out the ocean, I was just at McDonald's
I, I come from humble beginnings
Where the ones you call friends'll yell out your losses
And mumble your winnings (Fuck this nigga)
But I'm still one of the realest, coppin' foreigns up at the dealer
Ya raps is trash while I'm just gettin' litter, get it? (Lo)
