What's That!, Pt. 2

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Whole lotta iron on me, I feel like I'm Tony Stark
Put a bow together, off the leg work and rip that hoe apart
Catch a hop, nigga, riding striker and put that hoe in park
And you can never make it into the picture if you don't know the art
Remember being posted at that liquor store, arguing with art
Or posted at that liquor spirit, finna dip whenever I see Ace
28 grams on my scale, break it down to eighths
I'm tired of that normal-ass sprite, I'm finna drop an eight
Nigga, I know you be sippin' hit, cause they don't got the taste
That bitch said I smell good, in YSL, she wonder how I taste
This bitch want me to run after her, I only bag chase
And she just popped out late night and made that ass shake
Yeah, she made that ass bounce
I'm the type of nigga touch a whole pound from a half-ounce
Pots and pans, bangin' everywhere, I'm in the loud house
Hoe niggas gon' keep getting teched up till they fouled out
Sandwich bags, baby bottles, and a fish scale
I just whipped this bitch for thirty minutes, gave my wrist hell
Got it off the muscle, you won't never see me sit still
Even without a whip, I still found a way to hit sales
Yeah, I'm just that good
Stuffing Girl Scout cookies in a honey berry slapwood
As long as the block know my name, ain't gotta act hood
I fell off with a zip and put it back up like Shaq would
Bitch I love the game like im money mitch and ace boogie
In the jungle with gorillas, I feel like I'm A-Boogie
I can't kick it with no bitch unless she giving up the goodies
And I don't know karate, but this chop will hit him in his hoodie
Outta town plug got me slapping off the burner cookies, yeah
I ain't matching niggas, you be smoking backyard boogie, yeah
Hit it from the back and when the hoe got done, she hit her boogie dance
And this pop a Sprite cherry, but I turned it to a booger, yeah

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