Never Hating (feat. Young Thug)

Yea (yea)

Fresh like the first day of the school on the weekend

I put this shit on today, for no reason

Got something to smile about, I fixed up my teeth

Straight from the lot, call up Herm, get it geeked up

Thousand horse power, my car gotta keep up

Act like I'm slow all the time, but I peep stuff

What kinda guy let a bitch keep the beef up?

I let 'em live for a while, now the lease up

Nail and a hammer, I done built it from the ground up

Brodie say he workin', but the bricks done went down some

They handle the business, I do not go around them

You can get a hunnid if you want 'em, we got pound spots

I'm the one that's really havin' motion, what they talmbout?

Cars, I done did that, chains, don't need no mo'

So many clothes, startin' to feel like a hobo

Every milestone, tryna buy me a new home

Potholes keep on fuckin' up the Forgi's, take the rims off

The way she twist and suck it, like she tryna take the skin off

Bro 'nem, in the striker, but it's good, we swapped the VINs out

Don't bark up this tree, I make a choppa knock his limbs off

Thousand dollar after every road, that's what they hittin' for

All I do is fuck her, I done turned her to a nympho

FN's, blackouts, Gen 5's, Gen 4's

Trippin' for the family, I don't play about my kin folks

I took the guys to L.A. for a business meetin'

God, watch my friends, I can handle my enemies

Fuck I look like havin' smoke with my mini-me's?

Niggas gotta be jokin', you kiddin' me?

Y'all real kids, been small-time ballin', now it's real big

I was standin' in the bleachers, on some cheerin' shit

Never been a hater, I don't care enough

This shit ain't gon' stop until they bury us

Fresh off the jet, I end up in the projects

See sum I like, no police, so I'ma cop it

Don't follow my page, I post racks every day

For these niggas and bitches that's counting my pockets (woo)

Hurdle this bitch in Huaraches

Lambo', Ferrari, Bentleys, I got options

I took the private jet out to Nevada

4PF Ced, they got smoked like a Rasta

Trenches with me, something seem suspicious, something seeming fishy

'M Four Pockets Full and look like biscuits

Overprice us and we uppin', uppin'

Foh Foh Foh Foh, this sound, sound delicious

You can't use the dishes, in the kitchen cooking'

Woop, woop, litty, can't abort the mission, bitch, I got addictions

I don't do photo pictures, keep it low and with me

I took the guys to L.A. for a business meetin'

God, watch my friends, I can handle my enemies

Fuck I look like havin' smoke with my mini-me's?

Niggas gotta be jokin', you kiddin' me?

Y'all real kids, been small-time ballin', now it's real big

I was standin' in the bleachers, on some cheerin' shit

Never been a hater, I don't care enough

This shit ain't gon' stop until they bury us