Intro: Key Glock 
Let the band play 
Yeah 
Skrrt skrrt, skrrt‚ uh

Chorus: Key Glock 
Pull up foreigns back to back‚ back to back‚ back to back to back 
And hop out with them racks, with them racks, yeah‚ with them big old racks 
Ayy, shout out to my set, to my set‚ you see it around my neck 
Yeah, bitch, we like to flex, we like to flex, we ball, don't break a sweat

Verse 1: Key Glock 
Yeah, all these damn dead presidents, I'm gettin' too much, it's scarin' me 
Fuck these hoes, just let 'em be, can't let 'em get the best of me 
Bitch, I got the recipe, can't no nigga compare to me 
Yeah, all this water water on me, I might go join the swimming team 
I got dough, Krispy Kreme 
Fresh to death, crispy clean 
Bitch I smoke Christmas trees 
Got them lumps in my jeans 
Diamonds jumping, trampoline 
Uh, all you hear is bling (Bling) 
Ball so hard, they think we cheatin' 
Yeah, yeah, yeah, you see it

Chorus: Key Glock 
Pull up foreigns back to back, back to back, back to back to back 
And hop out with them racks, with them racks, yeah, with them big old racks 
Ayy, shout out to my set, to my set, you see it around my neck 
Yeah, bitch, we like to flex, we like to flex, we ball, don't break a sweat

Verse 2: Young Dolph
We pull up back to back, back to back to back to back to back
No, I don't play fair, shit 'round my neck jumpin' like jumping jacks
All these bitches swear that they love me, bitch, you just love these stacks
Dolph come on the radio, your girl gon' turn it up to the max
Paper Route, Paper Route, Paper Route (Uh)
Motherfuckin' Business, lil' nigga (Uh)
Fuck this rap shit, got some homeboys down the road doin' life sentence, lil' nigga (Free my dawgs, free my dawgs)
I never played tennis but I got racks (Racks)
Eight stacks just for a backpack (Racks)
See some fuck niggas, then blatt blatt (Blatt blatt)
Blatt blatt blatt blatt (Ayy)
Lake Michigan on my wrist (Flooded)
Mississippi river on my neck (Flooded)
Went to hollywood just to go flex (It's Dolph)
I took his bitch, made her my pet (Bitch)
I wish all of my old hoes the best (Fuck y'all)
Me and Tray-Tray on a jet (Bitch)
Blue Power Ranger on his chest, hah, blessed

Chorus: Key Glock
Pull up foreigns back to back, back to back, back to back to back
And hop out with them racks, with them racks, yeah, with them big old racks
Ayy, shout out to my set, to my set, you see it around my neck
Yeah, bitch, we like to flex, we like to flex, we ball, don't break a sweat