"Cheeto Prints" lyrics

I know how to settle this
I'm thinking of a number between one and three
Whoever guesses it gets to be king of the car
One
No
Three?
Nope
Okay, what is it?
Two (Pull some of that bass out, Bruce)
Oh, I swear I was gonna say that

I sold dawg some Amneal, he was thinkin' Act'
I hit him with a deuce of Quali' just to bring it back
I'm tryna make a hundred thousand with no strings attached
Bought a 'Cat with no mileage with a Visa pack
Doggie got a thousand for a feature, I need three for that
It's a cold-ass world, I bought some heat for that
Tryna go corporate, they like, "Mike, you too street for that"
Feel like KD, I counted ten and did the evil laugh

Five hundred horses in the Scat', but we creeping past
Dropped the back window, upped the Glock, dropped thirty-three out that
This bitch keep slidin' through the snow, we need a Jeep for that
Get a rental, drop a nigga out it, then bring it back (Who made you king of the car?)
Hold on, bro, bring it back
Press a button, all you hear is motor, ain't no keys for that
Left the crib with dough and cheese and brought a pizza back
I need like forty-five hundred just for a piece of that

I gotta get a million streams just to meet the quota
Pops spent forty bands to complete the motor
Dawg had to take the Scat' back 'cause the lease was over
We finna drop ten CDs and y'all think it's over (I'm king of the car)
I don't really fuck with rap niggas
Fresh as hell, but still chase you down in some Raf Simons
I'm finna drop an EP called Thirty Racks Richer
White boy just like to get high, bunch of Mac Millers

You beat your girl ass, I hit work, bitch, we scrap different
Play rose, I drink purple, bitch, we act different
I'll settle for a glass pint, but the Act' different
Nigga call me with it, I'll been done spent my last penny
The K make your car reverse like a transmission
This Glock'll turn you to a bitch, you a transgender
Shotgun got a pistol grip, I use one hand with it
Drum full of slugs, man, this bitch'll stop a Ram engine

I got a flip phone, but still make plays on my 7+
Me and Rio ran into some Act' and poured a 7UP
Passed all you rap niggas, ain't no catching up
You the type to buy a quarter ounce and roll eleven blunts

Damn, it wouldn't stretch enough
Nigga bought some buffs, but they wasn't hitting, he ain't flex enough
Dawg made the Xans too thin, they wasn't pressed enough
Hundred bands, drove that shit to Texas in a Lexus truck

My bitch a vet with the head, yours an amateur
I'm finna get that bitch fired like where her manager?
Shotgun hold twenty-one shells like fuck a standard
Yeah, we might fuck the same bitch, but you be paying her
Me and Rio on some Don Trip and Starlito shit
I'm finna start snatchin' chains on some Deebo shit
Girly tried to give that pussy up on some freak mode shit
Grabbed her head while she suck my dick and left Cheeto prints

7.62s'll make a nigga pop, lock, and drop it
Hit him in his chest, his shirt look like he work at Family Dollar
Straight drop work, bounce it back, gram seventy dollars
Put it in the microwave, it popped, Orville Redenbacher
Me and Mike on your song talkin' very spicy
Threw lil' dawg a ball and he caught it, I just Jerry Rice'd him
Signed a deal for a quarter mil' and took every ninety
I'm finna ice some brass knuckles, but I'll never fight you

Alright, so it's agreed, I'm king of the car, right?
Fine
Excuse me, Your Highness, would you mind grabbing me a Slim Jim out of the back?