Stuntin' like a maniac in the strip club blowin' 80 racks (Nigga I'm too low-key for that) Stuntin' like a maniac, in the streets nigga where the ladies at (I'm way too low-key for that) Stuntin' like a maniac ask niggas bitch I got my paper stacked (I'm too low-key for that) Yeah stuntin' like a maniac hold up (Somebody better let 'em know, I'm too low-key for that)
Niggas on the bad slope, finna crash woah Tryna show the hoes the cash flow (Nigga I'm too low-key for that) My foot is on the gas though Got my hat low, still an asshole yeah ho (I'm not too low-key for that) Nigga I just do what I does, what's up What it do, what's up, what it do You're blowin' all your money on the hoes and the cars bro It's all dope, but we all know (Nigga I'm too low-key for that)
I'll admit my last few years have been kinda rusty Have I been beating myself up, in my mind I must be I slowed down, watching my peers as they rise above me 'Cause rap's a leap of faith except nobody ties the bungee These times are ugly I'm close to my midlife, the crisis haunts me Calm on the surface but inside I'm grumpy If I was comfy, I'd say "fuck rap", because life is complete Surprise I'm hungry, rappers looking like fries and lunch meat Damn you got the hoes, you got a grill, you making mills huh (Huh) When you be flexing you looking so icy that I get the chills son (Huh) I seen you pull up in your whip and you stopped but somehow the wheels spun (Damn) Who is the plug for the drugs? Tell me where you get the pills from I heard you came from the real slums What the fuck you gon' do when your deal's done? Nigga the day that you fizzle out will come If you think it ain't comin' you're real dumb That ain't a bag you made off your talent That is a label allowance And we gon' see in the end if you really could pay off the balance, bitch (I'm too low-key for that)
Niggas on the bad slope, finna crash woah Tryna show the hoes the cash flow (Nigga I'm too low-key for that) My foot is on the gas though Got my hat low, still an asshole yeah ho (I'm not too low-key for that) Nigga I just do what I does, what's up What it do, what's up, what it do You're blowin' all your money on the hoes and the cars bro It's all dope, but we all know (Nigga I'm too low-key for that)
I could care less about expensive gold chains I'm gettin' more plays from spittin' propane Bitch this is no game I don't fuck with hoes who hang with rappers and want fame Fuck the swaggy shit now I'm livin' like it's the old days So pack your bags you had your chance this might be the Avalanche that wipes it up I'm back to rockin' baggy pants and wife beaters Bitch your time is up This my master plan and lightning struck Don't get caught in fires that my ashy hands is writing up Been had the fucking game on lock Been had my pesos copped Been plottin' deeply tryna take your spot I can't erase those thoughts my drive is something that these fakes don't got Their vision blurry tryna chase those thots You tryna do it independent but you ain't no Hop The indie valedictorian, bitch, my grades don't drop Quit tryna move me Beast mode is where my mind is usually Y'all focused on Louis Vuitton and Gucci, I told you (I'm too low-key for that)
Niggas on the bad slope, finna crash woah Tryna show the hoes the cash flow (Nigga I'm too low-key for that) My foot is on the gas though Got my hat low, still an asshole yeah ho (I'm not too low-key for that) Nigga I just do what I does, what's up What it do, what's up, what it do You're blowin' all your money on the hoes and the cars bro It's all dope, but we all know (Nigga I'm too low-key for that)
Nigga I'm too low-key for that I'm way too low-key for that Nigga I'm too low-key for that Nigga I'm too low-key for that
Compositor: Marcus Jamal Hopson ECAD: Obra #23559156