This song seemingly tackles the methods of deception those who manipulate others use to get victims to follow their demands, as well as diverting attention away from important issues. They'll also use it as a means to convince people to hate or kill others by pretending acts of terrorism were committed by the enemy when the acts themselves were done by the masters of control to promote discrimination and hate. It also reinforces the idea that these manipulative forces operate in various locations, infiltrating everyday life without detection, and propagate any and everywhere.
In general, it highlights the danger of hidden agendas, manipulation, and distraction, serving as a critique of those who exploit chaos and confusion to control and gain power, depicting a cautionary tale against falling into their traps. It encourages us to question the narratives presented to us and remain vigilant against manipulation in various parts of society.
Beat billionaire
You know I stick to the script
Twenty million dollar nigga, but I do it like this
Maybach Music, Maybach Music
[Chorus]
My Jordans high-top, snapback fitted cap (Wuh!)
My Jordans high-top, snapback fitted cap (Wuh!)
My Jordans high-top, snapback fitted cap
My Jordans high-top, snapback fitted cap
The Rolls-Royce, it's all white
Foamposites, the LeBrons, I'm fuckin' wit' the Spikes
My Jordans high-top, snapback fitted cap (Woo!)
My Jordans high-top, snapback fitted cap (Woo!)
The Rolls-Royce, it's all white (How can I not talk big? I got to)
Foamposites (Wale!), the LeBrons, I'm fuckin' wit' the Spikes
Wale
Yeah, uh
Ferrari mics, bitch, I'm on my car show
My chick black and white, she ain't no dime, that bitch a Concorde
Eleven know I'm reppin' this, shoot and I don't ever miss
The coupe I'm in is rented, I ain't wit' all that commitment shit
P-R-Ps is proper, couple Gs when I'm shoppin'
My girls and my SBs, got a thing for pink boxes
Shout out Frankie the Butcher, shout out Mishka in Brooklyn
That's some nigga from ten deep ATL, I'm wit' the cooker
I ain't even tryin', fool, ho, I ball like private school
You bammas like Hyperstrikes, your wifey sleep outside of you
And Tito's my niggas, you know just we just need more shit and
It's ironic how I drop some dough when I got them Homer Simpsons, look
Pine-green Foams, they may never see the store
Got LeBron Entourages like Maverick and Richie Paul
Bitch, I ball, ho, you lame, look at my Laneys, switchin' lanes
Look at my nines, look at my Blazers, look at my fours, cut wit' laser
Look at my whore, that is your lady, look at my flo', makin' y'all crazy
Makin' y'all sick, y'all cannot tame me, Lexus drive me, Maybach pay me
Salute
[Chorus]
I said I'm swaggin' out in my Cool Greys, no LL, but these cool Js
And my wrist froze, but I'm cool sha', like a bald head, I'm too paid
I'm too blazed, and I'm too high, George Kush, the whole crew high
Wrong move and that tool fly, better Kon that ass like Wu-sai
It's MMG, MOB, young nigga, I been OG
Walk around wit' like ten on me, that five seven, that fen' on me
Don't grin on me wit' them long stares, you ain't God unless no fear
Big money, all the hoes, HD, I came so clear
We jeweled out and we racked up, Phantom big when it back up
Big Boy, look like a Mack truck, shooters ride wit' that Mac tucked
I'm a Bad Boy, bitch, ask Puff, Simpson-Rodgers, my last cup
On this shit, I can't stand up, country Ks as I man up
This Rozay, Wale, Gunplay, and that nigga Pill
In Brazil, and this shit is real, got bad hoes and that whippet pill
One week and we get the deal, one day and I fucked the bitch
My Levis, they five o one, my snapback is hella bent
[Chorus]
Fresh-ass nigga, no wonder why them hoes be open
That's that nigga, so what'd I say? They okey-dokin'
How you figga? You fuckin' wit' me? I hope he jokin'
I'm witcha girl, you home alone, bitch you Macauley Culkin
I'm oviedosin', ay, homie, Kobe smokin'
Then put my ashes on you niggas, bet you gon' need lotion
I'm slowly roastin', heatin' up, so you know we toastin'
Fuck hoes wit' no emotion, fade away like Kobe postin'
Out in Sweden, like ain't shit that you can't tell us
Lord, forgive me, as a kid, I used to look at niggas jealous
'Cause uh, they had them Js, and my mama wouldn't cop 'em
Can you blame her? Hundred dollars for them bitches wann't a option
Now we livin' much better, nigga, pay whatever
Rock them bitches once then forgot about 'em forever
My kicks like my chick, I don't need to know the numbers
You just need to know I'm comin', I'll kill you niggas this summer
Cole
[Chorus: x2]
You know I stick to the script
Twenty million dollar nigga, but I do it like this
Maybach Music, Maybach Music
[Chorus]
My Jordans high-top, snapback fitted cap (Wuh!)
My Jordans high-top, snapback fitted cap (Wuh!)
My Jordans high-top, snapback fitted cap
My Jordans high-top, snapback fitted cap
The Rolls-Royce, it's all white
Foamposites, the LeBrons, I'm fuckin' wit' the Spikes
My Jordans high-top, snapback fitted cap (Woo!)
My Jordans high-top, snapback fitted cap (Woo!)
The Rolls-Royce, it's all white (How can I not talk big? I got to)
Foamposites (Wale!), the LeBrons, I'm fuckin' wit' the Spikes
Wale
Yeah, uh
Ferrari mics, bitch, I'm on my car show
My chick black and white, she ain't no dime, that bitch a Concorde
Eleven know I'm reppin' this, shoot and I don't ever miss
The coupe I'm in is rented, I ain't wit' all that commitment shit
P-R-Ps is proper, couple Gs when I'm shoppin'
My girls and my SBs, got a thing for pink boxes
Shout out Frankie the Butcher, shout out Mishka in Brooklyn
That's some nigga from ten deep ATL, I'm wit' the cooker
I ain't even tryin', fool, ho, I ball like private school
You bammas like Hyperstrikes, your wifey sleep outside of you
And Tito's my niggas, you know just we just need more shit and
It's ironic how I drop some dough when I got them Homer Simpsons, look
Pine-green Foams, they may never see the store
Got LeBron Entourages like Maverick and Richie Paul
Bitch, I ball, ho, you lame, look at my Laneys, switchin' lanes
Look at my nines, look at my Blazers, look at my fours, cut wit' laser
Look at my whore, that is your lady, look at my flo', makin' y'all crazy
Makin' y'all sick, y'all cannot tame me, Lexus drive me, Maybach pay me
Salute
[Chorus]
I said I'm swaggin' out in my Cool Greys, no LL, but these cool Js
And my wrist froze, but I'm cool sha', like a bald head, I'm too paid
I'm too blazed, and I'm too high, George Kush, the whole crew high
Wrong move and that tool fly, better Kon that ass like Wu-sai
It's MMG, MOB, young nigga, I been OG
Walk around wit' like ten on me, that five seven, that fen' on me
Don't grin on me wit' them long stares, you ain't God unless no fear
Big money, all the hoes, HD, I came so clear
We jeweled out and we racked up, Phantom big when it back up
Big Boy, look like a Mack truck, shooters ride wit' that Mac tucked
I'm a Bad Boy, bitch, ask Puff, Simpson-Rodgers, my last cup
On this shit, I can't stand up, country Ks as I man up
This Rozay, Wale, Gunplay, and that nigga Pill
In Brazil, and this shit is real, got bad hoes and that whippet pill
One week and we get the deal, one day and I fucked the bitch
My Levis, they five o one, my snapback is hella bent
[Chorus]
Fresh-ass nigga, no wonder why them hoes be open
That's that nigga, so what'd I say? They okey-dokin'
How you figga? You fuckin' wit' me? I hope he jokin'
I'm witcha girl, you home alone, bitch you Macauley Culkin
I'm oviedosin', ay, homie, Kobe smokin'
Then put my ashes on you niggas, bet you gon' need lotion
I'm slowly roastin', heatin' up, so you know we toastin'
Fuck hoes wit' no emotion, fade away like Kobe postin'
Out in Sweden, like ain't shit that you can't tell us
Lord, forgive me, as a kid, I used to look at niggas jealous
'Cause uh, they had them Js, and my mama wouldn't cop 'em
Can you blame her? Hundred dollars for them bitches wann't a option
Now we livin' much better, nigga, pay whatever
Rock them bitches once then forgot about 'em forever
My kicks like my chick, I don't need to know the numbers
You just need to know I'm comin', I'll kill you niggas this summer
Cole
[Chorus: x2]
Lyrics submitted by SongMeanings
Fitted Cap Lyrics as written by Olubowale Victor Akintimehin William Roberts
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Lyrics powered by LyricFind
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