Mix Match

[Intro]

Huh, huh, huh, two, ooh, ughghgh, hmm, yeah

[Verse 1]

Mix match, Gucci slippers (Gucci slippers, Gucci, Gucci)

Mix match, twin pistols (Twin pistols)

In Atlanta, fuckin' twin sisters (Twin sisters, yeah)

I’m a pimp like that man [?] (That man [?], yeah)

Put your shirt on a damn picture (A damn picture)

I mean put your picture on a damn shirt (A damn shirt)

Fendi FN either works (Either works, FN)

Bitch sound like a firework (Firework, aah)

I'm on the west like a fuckin' jerk (Hmm, jerk)

Pistol on my fuckin’ shirt (Fuckin' shirt)

Nigga, pull down yo fuckin' skirt (Yo fuckin' skirt)

12 gauge got fuckin' birds (Fuckin' birds)

I'm Hot Boy but my name ain't Turk (My name ain’t Turk, ayy)

Gotta be list second but my name ain’t first (My name ain't first, ayy)

Niggas booin’ me but my name ain't yours (My name ain't yours, skrt)

When hoes pull up, I tell 'em my gate don’t work (Gate don't work, ayy ayy)

Might hit my city just for some fuckin' [?] (Fuckin' [?], Chief Keef)

Might pull up on the opps in a Benz with the curtains (Curtains, skrt skrt)

We gon' hold my bands out and my bands be flirtin' (My bands be flirtin', flirtin')

I'ma D in the station, bitch, I ain't see nurtin' (Nurtin', err)

I pull up in time, man, I had to keep workin' (Workin' in)

Pictures fell out but I had to keep turnin' (Turnin' in)

Blunt ran out so I had to keep burnin' (Burnin' in, dope)

Wheels went flat but I had to keep churnin' (Churnin' in, yoon, ayy)

[Interlude]

True

Ayy

[Verse 2]

A nigga see you like a hot lighter, yeah (Ayy, ayy, ayy)

Micro-cake no micro-fighter, yeah, bitch (Ayy, ayy)

In Detroit, I know some tigers, yeah (Ayy, gang gang)

Stopped textin' that bitch and I went idol (Bang bang bang)

I had the BD like I'm Michael (Skrt skrt skrt)

He on the stand, we'll hand no bible (Bitch)

Niggas can't even be my rivals (Uh)

Ben Franklin with me and he'll fight you (Fff beep, bitch)

I told Benny Ben to insight you (Dummy)

I get Blood Money, we'll bite you (Bitch)

Hide yo ass and tell 'em find you (Bitch, uh)

You think you slick, we right behind you (Skrt skrt skrt)

Dribble, dribble, break his ankles, ayy, yeah (Swish)

Shoot three at every angle, ayy (Bah)

Medallions like Kurt Angle (Woah)

Who ride? We ridin' Star-Spangled, ayy

Please do not get your strings tangled, ayy

You can get your car strangled, ayy

Folksnem as my angels, ayy

Folksnem as my angels, ayy