text: Murda, Murda, Murda shit
  Ayy
  420 up in London
  Im a problem, call the ombudsman 
  Me and Murda, we up to somethin
  I was on the hound and almost caught me in Fort Nelson 
  Mr. Hustle hard, now they claimin they my cousin 
  I fuck your bitch, now she thinkin Im her husband
  Im in some Balmains, these jeans cost a dozen
  Im iced out, this Rollie cost me nothin 
  Remember days when I was on the run 
  Couldnt leave my house without a gun 
  Told Mama wouldnt make them take your son
  I moved her out the hood now a nigga shoot for fun 
  Fuck a friend I just do this for my loved ones
  We came far from sleeping in the dungeon
  Air contamination I aint breath right since hustlin
  Started off with coins now Im run-in up the hundreds
  Mama found my strap in my room while she cussin
  Neighbor was a traphouse cuz I had it pumpin
  Plottin on the mansion
  Views by the sunset
  Cookin up my dinner
  Never ate my lunch yet
  Pressa got you mad, huh?
  30 clip mad long
  Chip it till the pack gone
  Business was my thing
  Gotta keep a structure
  Shots up to Taurus
  His lungs were punctured
  Diamonds were my first name
  Jewellery part of culture
  Ran out of minutes
  Think I need a voucher
  I was on the molly, bitches out in Boston
  Fucked the bitch in Follies, her pussy was awesome
  Rockstar life Jeff Hardy, do tricks like Mat Hoffman
  She just wanna party, she do that shit often
  She gon suck my dick until she start gaggin and coughin
  Am I scared? No, hardly, I deserve a heart lift
  My new crib, its so big, this shit got a office
  I was off a thirty, this shit made me nauseous
  My new car on derbies, automatic parking
  Ballin in my jersey, in the streets Im Jordan
  12 checked me, then they took my gun
  Me, no trippin cause I got a whole nother gun
  If she leave me, yeah Ive got a whole nother one
  I put that on my son and I aint even got a son
  Red green, beam green, bitch I never miss
  She sucked the lines up out my dick like its a peppermint
  I get the cheese, like I work for the government
  Im an alien lookin for your mother ship
  420 up in London
  Im a problem, God, yeah, Ill bust em 
  Me and Murda, we up to somethin
  I was on the the hound they almost caught me at Fort Nelson
  Mr. Hustle hard, now they claimin theyre my cousin 
  I fuck your bitch, now she thinkin Im her husband
  Im in some Balmains, these jeans they cost a dozen 
  Im iced out, this Rollie cost me nothin 
  Im iced out, this Rollie cost me nothin
  Im iced out, this Rollie cost me nothin
  Im iced out, this Rollie cost me nothin
  Im iced out, this Rollie cost me nothin
  Yeah!