Wifisfuneral and Robb Bank$ - Anything

Ayy, pass me that, um, lil' soda
Tryna go to the, tryna go to the store?
They accept Apple Pay there
Yeah, for real, we might have to go to the store
'Cause I need some more shit, need some water
Need some booster love (Kehlani, hit my phone, I'm done)
Water (Switch like OJ)
Hahaha (I'm tryna take you on a date, you know what I'm sayin', candlelight
Drip like André 3K, for real
Ayy, Chris, we gon' roll up some weed?)

Uh, uh, yeah (Yeah, yeah-yeah)
Uh, uh, yeah
Uh, uh, yeah (Okay)
Uh, uh, yeah (Okay, okay, okay)
Uh, uh, yeah (woo)
Uh, uh, yeah
Uh, uh
Uh, uh (Okay, okay, okay, okay)

I pick up the cup (Okay, okay), go to Sicily
Gave me Terrordome (Suck that dick), is you diggin' me?
Better stop playin' wit' yo' nose (Yeah), you steady fidgetin'
Then I ran off on the plug (Okay, okay), he ain't gettin' me

I'ma ride a foreign down the interstate
Hear that Demon roarin', rrah, rrah, I accelerate
Molly on yo' tongue, huh, lick it off a dinner plate
Valet rent-a-car, ate her out like a dinner date
Suckin' that dick, you like it, yeah, you got that talent, uh, uh
Baby, you can sit on my couch, I'ma put you in that casket, uh, uh
Two star pipe job, bitch, I'ma take ya ass to that Valley (Sset, Sset)
And our thots had tricks for the kid, put a nine to your wig and blast it
I'm your daddy, bitch, I don't need you gettin' sassy (yuh, yuh)
The Gucci made of snake, the FN made of plastic (Swear to God)
Lil' baby 28, 36 the baddest
I bought a B-M-dub, blue, I hate to crash it
Fuck your bitch 'cause she the baddest
Uh, new Tom Ford jacket
Uh, it my swag, yeah they jackin'
Uh, I'm your dad, get a spankin'

I pick up the cup (Okay, okay), go to Sicily
Gave me Terrordome (Suck that dick), is you diggin' me?
Better stop playin' wit' yo' nose (Yeah), you steady fidgetin'
Then I ran off on the plug (Okay, okay), he ain't gettin' me

Pull up like we with all the smoke, just like a cigarette
Lil' bitty bitch give me dome, uh, uh, my piece feeling it
Hold like nine shots to his head, uh, uh, three Glocks getting it
Yeah, nine shots to his head, what, what, three Glocks getting it
Came through oppositions, 21 bitches
Wrap my dick just like it Christmas
Make it count, this shit drippin'
Bank account, yeah this shit drippin'
I just came up from the tomb, out her womb, I'm on shrooms
Checkin' these bitches like Nike, you know how I swoosh
And my mama ain't raise no bitch, lil' nigga, this Draco got a broom
I might sweep a nigga right off his block, his body disappear by 2
Ooh, first .48 my vools
Ooh, first .48 my vools, ooh
Thought that the gang gone cool, cool
Teardrop gang like boohoo

Fuck your bitch 'cause she the baddest
Uh, new Tom Ford jacket (yeah, yeah)
Uh, it my swag, yeah they jackin'
Uh, I'm your dad, get a spankin'

I pick up the cup (Okay, okay), go to Sicily
Gave me Terrordome (Suck that dick), is you diggin' me?
Better stop playin' wit' yo' nose (Yeah), you steady fidgetin'
Then I ran off on the plug (Okay, okay), he ain't gettin' me

He ain't gettin' me
Uh, oh, mmm, mmm, mmm
Mmm, mmm, yeah, mmm, mmm
Mmm, mmm, bitch nigga, mmm, mmm

Written by:
Isaiah Rivera, Richard O'Neil Burrell

Publisher:
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.

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