Wanting money for a spree You did something mad Ooh When you went out in the street (Uh) Perhaps you felt quite bad, felt quite bad Uh, felt bad, I did I felt bad, I felt bad Trappin' keys like a trapeze, minus the need for the balance beam Still got to that fetty without the trap queen No ads, I'll give your team half the magazine Please, somebody call the fashion police Clapped up your rental, shattered the window, broken glass in the street It's a tragedy, his better half was in the passenger seat My shooter got so many bodies, probably beat anybody Hammer a thotty, fucked everybody, more bodies than Sammy and Gotti (What?) But first, every homi' gotta be ran by me For every dime served in lobby, murder and robbery (Bad, woo) The streets was wild back then Even T-Boz had a MAC-10 Never know who bangin', it'll be a rude awakening When you naked tryna locate where your bracelet is (Where my shit at?) My Jamaican bitch pass it to me like Jason Kidd Babycakes, that's a great assist (Oof) I just had to lay it in (Bad) Lay it in for the win, maybe even bang it and break the rim (Bad, haha) Went crazy in the gym (Crazy) I told them niggas: Get down and lay down like JBM Hopped in the grey BM' (Bad) Don't throw the baby out with the piss (Bad) It is what it is, when you MC light, then you paper thin (Bad) Thin like a vape pen, slim as a inmate's chance to escape the pen The triggers on the hammers is hairpin Yeah, pimp, my Atlanta bitch suck the air out a blimp That's a cherry on a banana split Shit Wanting money for a spree You did something mad When you went out in the street Perhaps you felt quite bad, felt quite bad (I did) Bad Yeah, yeah (Bad) When Marcberg dropped, I couldn't afford a modem (Bad) Was disconnected at the moment When I heard Reloaded, cheddar had started flowin' (Bad) Got some Os of petroleum on the elbow, the scale broke Almost got derailed when twelve felt close, I couldn't fail, though (Bad) Then hell froze over, I flexed, I might neglect the Rover (Bad) Pull up slower in somethin' white interior, Dinesh D'Souza (Oh my God) Met the quota, I laid vocals that's compressed with coca' (Oh my God) That's the focus, I could write a poem and finesse the POTUS (What?) Check the motives, for a check, I don't respect the motions (No) Had to shake my ex, now the organs in her chest is broken (Bad) Grew up on Goya, now it's often oysters I'm enjoyin' (Bad) Sure, I'm a goyim, but the lawyer I'm employin' readin' the Torah (Bad) My silhouette and aura caught her, bet it wet her warrants up (Bad) Shorty wanna link with some E, that's blue, that's Internet Explorer (Bad, ooh) Hallelujah, gotta thank every connoisseur, I been through it (Bad) Got it out the sewer, had to treat a booth like it was a tiny school bus (Bad) Provocateur, pockets filled, all the twat velour (Bad) Poppin' off, I'll stomp you wearin' silk like Tupac Shakur (Bad) What? (Bad) Bad When—you're a writer, too, you've written some great songs When-when-When you write, what comes first Since you're a musician also, a great trumpet player Does the music, music come first or the words? No, I, ah, I usually put the music together I put the music together, then the words come