What You Need (ft NoCap)

Oh shit, that boy Chris B. Cam too, Chris B. God damn!
Tune in, I’m telling you, I’m dropping number, God
Put it on the motherfucking gas, you hear me?

Bizarre, bizarre, yeah
I’m a real trapper, tell me what you need
Yeah, bitch, this a McLaren, I can’t do nothing but speed
Left club 24 and blew it down 30
Pull up, hop out cleaner than some damn detergent

Yeah, that’s my little shit, she Mrs. Perfect
Yeah, in my pocket stuffed like a turkey
I’m the motherfucking biggest, boy, let’s make a bet
I’ll pull up in some shit, make bitches break they neck

I’ll pull up in some shit, I’ll make your jaw drop
Lemme yell a vet, come through looking like a cold drop
You can’t sit on my lap, baby, I pay too much for these jeans
Michael Rolls, Royce Culley, blue inside like Listerine

She say, daddy, when I’ma see you, I say, let me check my schedule
I got 250K in 20s, cousin, look, bottom broke
Bum-ass bitch, tell me where you live at
Who me? I’ma get a sack like Khalil Mack

Thinking about it now, I probably spend a half a mil on clothes
I just went on tour, I gave away money at all my shows
Oh, that’s D-Low bidding the block, get your kids out the road
I got a lot of dog shit on me, you better cover up your nose

I’m a real trapper, tell me what you need
Bitch, this a McLean, I can’t do nothing but speed
Love a club 24 and blew it down 30
Pull up, hop out cleaner than some damn detergent

That’s my little shit, she Mrs. Perfect
In my pocket, stuffed like a turkey
I’m the motherfucking biggest, boy, let’s make a bet
I’ll pull up in some shit, make bitches break they neck

I got tired of foreign cars, foreign got a Chevy mounted
Christmas, I told Santa Claus, just bring me a money counter
Bro sees too many of his niggas, he put in a suit
That’s why that blick got a button

I know I shouldn’t be missing the family with business
I still get a job than my cousin
I’m out in London with a bad bitch, look like Tommy
I pay to remove her gut

Ask her cash, she make it clout
She can make it talk instead
Do CPR on the bando
Who the fuck said trapping dead?

Send a nigga straight to heaven
Roll him up, then we in hell
She bad as shit, don’t hurt for nothing
Shawty got her shit together

My jeweler, he on speed dial
I should slow down on his glitter
Nine miles on that Maybach Pillar
Guess this shit ain’t what it seem

No count Michael Jackson thriller
Stuff a billion in my jeans
I’m a real trapper, tell me what you need
Bitch, this a McLean, I can’t do nothing but speed

Love a club 24 and blew her down 30
Pull up, hop out cleaner than some damn detergent
That’s my little shit, she Mrs. Perfect
In my pocket, stuffed like a turkey

I’m the motherfucking biggest, boy, let’s make a bet
I’ll pull up in some shit, make bitches break they neck

I’m cleaning every stain as if you think about murdering me
She was everything before she got her surgery
Ride with $3 shots, I’m feeling like I’m Andre
I popped a half a pill, now she look like Beyoncé

Me and D-Lo pull up back to back
Shit like Scoliosis
Know I should’ve been the quarterback
I got too much motion

Most of these niggas ain’t never slain no one
But they know how to troll
Cover my block, this shit like UFC
This trap be full of bulls

I’m in my Amish line in a Hurricane
Like I’m Cameron O’Jacobs