Sessions

[Intro: Youngs Teflon]

Yeah

Yeah

Flyo

I'm having to put the light back on

Uh

[Verse 1: Youngs Teflon]

I can get rich off music now

Don't need no fiends

But none of these Ps are clean

Inside my Moschino jeans

I've got black, got white, got Asian

Even Latino beans

Big handgun, self-reloading

You ain't even seen machines

Said the buj has got the fiends addicted

Done more hooks than Quavo

I've got work on the streets

And I've got hooks on the radio

I just want money and girls

I just want skengs and pesos

Pull up on smoke with weebs

Man's tryna run, what way, though?

Slide on 'em

Fly, load up the beats, man glide on 'em

Get a drop and we lie on 'em

Put wings on the packs, man's flying 'em, traffic

Pattern up

You ain't got a pitch or a batter up

We need the win, no matter what

They don't want this as bad as us

Bad as Michael with the red jacket

Moonwalking with a Z packet

Billie Jean, I was really lean

With the big machine, it gets active

Can't keep phones

Cuh the feds track it

We just tryna climb

To the next bracket

[Verse 2: Suspect]

Uh, I'm like I could get rich off these bricks

But I don't really need the scene

I don't even need your comments

Preeing weebs

Pussy just clocked my shine

And long time I had this gleam

Long time I had this shit locked

I'm like "what do you mean?"

Since like the age of fifteen

The gyal have been calling me reem

I 'member when I used to be ugly

Now come like a man of prestige

Either the looks or the money

Do I look like I give a shit, please?

I'm like now I just pick a man's wife

Like 'oi, babe, you're coming with me'

Coming with the team

She's got a bag of friends and they're coming with the Gs

I said I felt a way, she's got nothing underneath

They love me from I popped right out the scene

I said I want the top spot

I want nothing inbetween

Welcome to the chop shop

A nigga cutting from your spleen

Supervillain like Doc Oc

And niggas pattern when they see me

Well, I'll get a nigga's top dropped

Don't be fucking round with weebs

Way before this rap

Niggas were shooting up the scene

[Verse 3: Chip]

How you know so many shottas

And you never sold a brick in your life?

How you know so many gyal

But you still can't find you a wife?

How you smoke all that weed

But remember all of them rhymes?

True, I came through with the ring

Touch mic, let me fist do shine

Niggas linked up to block the path

Better luck next time

Say the wrong ting tonight

By morning, bluku bye bye

Always get called for verses

Man know what I send back gon' be certi

I got half a box but it's not to shot

I get high as fuck, that's my percy

Penthouse view

When I'm down by the river

Dressing gown on

Milly rocking in my slippers

Household name

Tryna get a little bigger

I see you pulling out your phone

What you doing, little nigga?

Dem man snap too much

Dem man chat too much

Ayy, Chip, you run your mouth too much

Didn't wanna do it but I had to, bruv

I hate getting stressed, love getting head

Pop your collar at me, I'll be at your neck

Still spitting gems, in the trap, invest

We just living life, Chippy, Sus and Tef