"Him" lyrics

Uh
It's recordin'?
It's recordin'?
(Ayy, let that shit ride, Tav)
It's been recordin'?
Bet, keep everything
Uh, let's go
Let's go, ayy

I told a bitch I'm him, quit playin'
Tryna ride with a boss? Well, bitch, get in
Said I stay on the road like the Michelin Man
Put an M on your head like a Michigan fan
Ayy, I'm ballin' so hard, I might hoop when I land
I be ready to dump, I might shoot through my pants
Been on the block, boy, but we just shoot, we don't dance
If my opp get locked, put suits on his ass

Shoot my opp that suit, what you mean? That's a case
What that is in your pants? What you mean? This a Drac'
Bitch, I don't got friends, all my niggas some apes
Bitch, I don't got friends, all my niggas gorilla
Thirty racks on me, ridin' 'round with a killer
Big-ass bale same size as a pillow
Real ice on my neck, ho hug me and shiver
Poured an eight up in Austin, change the color of the river
Real Wock', I'll turn a bitch purple
Say I drip like a pastor, I'm servin' the ushers
Say she ain't gotta clock in, but I'm workin' her
Bitch, you ain't fuck when I was broke, shit personal
Hop out with two straps, feel like I'm Urkel
Ayy, hop out with two straps just like a dyke be
My niggas ballin', y'all niggas sideline, Spike Lee
Niggas act gangster, but sweeter than iced tea

I told a bitch I'm him, quit playin'
Tryna ride with a boss? Well, bitch, get in
Said I stay on the road like the Michelin Man
Put an M on your head like a Michigan fan
Ayy, I'm ballin' so hard, I might hoop when I land
I be ready to dump, I might shoot through my pants
Been on the block, boy, but we just shoot, we don't dance
If my opp get locked, put suits on his ass
I told a bitch I'm him, quit playin'
Tryna ride with a boss? Well, bitch, get in
Said I stay on the road like the Michelin Man
Put an M on your head like a Michigan fan
Ayy, I'm ballin' so hard, I might hoop when I land
I be ready to dump, I might shoot through my pants
Been on the block, boy, but we just shoot, we don't dance
If my opp get locked, put suits on his ass

Hit his block with drums, shit sound like a band
And this money I'm tryna get quicker than sand
Real hustler, I hope you can get what I'm sayin'
After the show, gotta have ass to get on this van
I say gotta have ass to get on this Sprinter (Gotta have ass)
Countin' paper, then caught me a splinter
And don't think shit sweet, ain't nothin' here Splenda
I'm gettin' money every day, newer paper than printers
Ayy, say I'm on they ass like suspenders
And he be in the house like he on suspension
And the stick in my pants, that's the reason I'm limpin'
Just like McCaffery, sneakers be Christian
We fire, roll the 'Wood, double cup what I'm missin'
My lil' partners got aim, them young niggas gifted
So many rods in this bitch like we finna go fishin'
Before I went to prom, I went on a mission
Before I went in the bathroom, went in the kitchen
Learned how to count money 'fore I learned how to spell
I'm rockin' water, bumped into a whale
The finesser, I could sell dope to a scale
The finesser, I could sell hay to a scarecrow
Ayy, I could sell PC to Metro
Might just sell a ball to LaMelo
Heard you broke, can't bond out, jammed like Jell-O

Jammed like Jell-O
These niggas jammed like Jell-O
Ayy, ayy
Bump into your ho, I tell the bitch hello
You feel me?
Ayy, said bump into your ho, I tell the bitch hello
Ayy
Play and get rolled like a 'rello, gang