Lyrics from Live Performance
Aint no more reminiscin
Aint no more judgin, no intuition
I was smokin Scotti, but not Pippen
I taught my son how to stack that shit to the ceiling
Drop a body, and you wouldnt have to pay for lunch
I told my dawg Im ridin whether he right or wrong
I done got big, they record my life through a drone
I told my bitch to stand behind me, Im in my zone
She like, How the fuck you aint never wrote a song?
Same reason your fine ass aint never wore a thong
You aint ridin for life, then Id just rather ride alone
Bought you a spot, now you dont ever gotta go
Yeah, I told my nigga Ima drop the jewels on him
You gotta go through this shit with your heart, you cant snooze on it
Its bad, you better get rid of it or lose on it
I know you heard that, hoes sing about bad fruit, homie
Huh, if you cant beat em, knock it out em
Huh, if you gon kill em, better not be sloppy
I told my daughter, Keep one in the head, she aint gotta cock it
I told my son if he wanted to live, he might catch a body
I told my son he aint a cheerleader but he might gotta catch a body
His driver named Joe, but he still cant do it sloppy
I just hopped up out that Ghost, I been drivin a dead body
I aint really into nothin, but I spend it like a hobby
I was locked inside the trap, didnt think about it, but I got out it
And my cars and clothes exotic
Aint 6ix9ine, but two hoes with me right now, you can call me Shotti
I been droppin all my Vicks and now the FBI wont stop me
Got this shit on fire like Takis, nigga, woah, woah
Aint no more reminiscin
Aint no more judgin, no intuition
I was smokin Scotti, but not Pippen
I taught my son how to stack that shit to the ceiling
Yeah, they complimentin my new Rolls Royce
TV in the front of that motherfucker like a tour bus
Spirit of ecstasy got me feelin so blessed, you see
I told my bitch I was bout to go shoot up Treaster Tree
Half a million dollars on my dawgs and all my cars
Couple millions to my mama and my pa
Got the sniper on the roof for niggas tryna act hard
I just bought a brand new coupe, and its a black Jaguar
Matte black, old Trans Am, thank you, maam
We gon make us a porn star video, new cam
I just came up watchin my pop gamble my food stamps
I just cause cramps, I dont go back and forth with tramps
Baby, we stamped, just for that, Ima call you Maam
With the T-Rex, I just gave my daddy the Cam
I got the sheets wet
Pick that lil bitch up, then I slam her like Im from B-X
Then I fold her up like a clam, yeah
It was dark, then I came to the light
I was poor, and now my doors suicide
I dont know how to make it right, right
Got four Birkins for you, keep it light, light
I dont care about you leavin me
I got no time to try to make it right
I just hope you find another life
Ill pick you up if you ever fall, right? 
Aint no more reminiscin
Aint no more judgin, no intuition
I was smokin Scotti, but not Pippen
I taught my son how to stack that shit to the ceiling