Like This - G Herbo, Lil Uzi Vert

A 100 Million what I’m tryna get

Anythin' to get this paper, bitch, I’m tryin' it

Ain’t nobody gonna play with me, nigga reach I’m firin' it (Bah)

Know your enemy, go, go lil' nigga, mmm-mmm, I’m dyin' with it (Yeah)

You ain’t got gwop like this

You ain’t got cash like this (Yeah)

You ain’t got gwop like this

Suck my dick, bitch, ashy lips (Yeah)

You ain’t got gwop like this

You ain’t got cash like this (Yeah)

You ain’t got gwop like this (Yeah)

You ain’t got cash like this (Yeah)

Smokin' exotic, I’m high as shit

I’ll die if I don’t keep this bitch on my hip

Hopefully I don’t shoot this bitch off the rip

Ain’t like you rappers with all that lip

Canary my diamonds, they wedges like lemon

Ocean my neck in this shit like Pacific

I like my bitches with fat ass and titties

No, no, no, Lil Uzi, not too specific

Ain’t like you bappers, we real Kobe cappers

You niggas be actors and not even factors

Double the racks and then back in the back seat

That shoot like a raptor, a rapper attacked me

DM that hoe, but she still in my mentions

Bitches be talkin', these hoes they be snitchin'

Niggas be talkin', these niggas be snitchin'

Had a glock on my waist and I had to click quickly

A 100 Million what I’m tryna get

Anythin' to get this paper, bitch, I’m tryin' it

Ain’t nobody gonna play with me, nigga reach I’m firin' it (Bah)

Know your enemy, go, go lil' nigga, mmm-mmm, I’m dyin' with it (Let's go)

You ain’t got gwop like this

You ain’t got cash like this (Yeah)

You ain’t got gwop like this

You ain’t got cash like this (Yeah)

You ain’t got gwop like this (Let's go)

You ain’t got cash like this (Yeah)

You ain’t got gwop like this (Yeah)

You ain’t got cash like this (Uh)

Canary my diamonds, they wedges like lemon

Ocean my neck in this shit like Pacific

I like my bitches with fat ass and titties

No, no, no, Lil Uzi, not too specific

DM that hoe, but she still in my mentions

Bitches be talkin', these hoes they be snitchin'

Niggas be talkin', these niggas be snitchin'

Had a glock on my waist and I had to click quickly

I went to every jeweler in this shit, told all of them better not tax me

And I got two bribs in LA right now, 'cause that’s where the packs be

You don’t know you in the Raq, runnin' shit, you don’t know us

Empty the clip off a hip, pour a four up

On the bullshit on the block like Noah

Give me the beef well done like Boa, bitch

So if a nigga can see when I’m shootin'

I pop out with your bitch, I had to recruit it

Okay, she know I fuck with all her friends

But she don’t say nothin', she scared to lose me

I fuck them lil' bitches right to my music

Pull out my dick then she start flutin'

(Whoa) She said she don’t fuck with niggas

(What?) So she still shoppin' at Gucci (Let's go)

And before rappers wasn’t lying on IG

Actually been here sauce like Zaxby’s (Aye-uh)

Build my wave like Max B, I’m in New York free Max B

I be in New York like a taxi

Riding in the Lambo truck, finna pull a lil' swerve, car seat in the backseat

Your bitch she attracted to money, yeah, that’s why she fuckin' (Yeah)

My niggas attracted to shootin', that’s why they keep bussin' (Whoa)

I’m with the gang for life, you know that I’m stuck in it (Yeah)

You know they gon' up that price, you know they ain’t touchin' shit

Niggas gettin' rich, if it’s smoke we ain’t duckin' it

I’m in Chiraq when I rhyme with a 100 clips

Richard Mill' plain cost a hundred clip

Pushin' a Rolls with the Maybach, my brother whip

Hit that boy first, know he hear me, I’m comin' quick

Fuck all this rappin', we ain’t with this sucka shit

Hundred clip, pull out a window and dump at you

We back in Friendsville comfortable (Let's go)

You ain’t got gwop like this

You ain’t got cash like this (Yeah)

You ain’t got gwop like this, yeah

You ain’t got cash like this (Yeah)

You ain’t got gwop like this (Let's go)

You ain’t got cash like this (Yeah)

You ain’t got gwop like this (Yeah)

You ain’t got cash like this (Yeah)

Bitch, I’m havin' shit, I wear a whip on my wrist

Real killers ridin' with straps

Can respond in rap, I don’t trip on a diss

When we print out the physicals, cop my disc

Chill out, hop off my dick

Yeah, it’s me and Vert, skrrt

Big 40 in Burts, you get mirked, jerk

Brand new Richard Millie, yeah

Hop a stack through this, yeah

Brand new Lambo runnin' through lights

Like I’m at the track in that bitch (Vrrm)

Brand new red Rarri (Uh), ain’t no traction in it (Yeah)