Quality Control and Lil Yachty - Dead Man Walking Lyrics

Buddha bless this beat
Yuh, ay, go, ay, ah, oh, go, skeet
Bitch

Where my motherf*cking stack
Why them twenties in the front?
Why them hunnids in the back?
Show me what you got
Bring it back for some cash
I'm a self made prodigy, I look like a bag
I'm a f*ckin', millionaire I mean it
I'ma put a bitch on Front Street if you don't believe it
Ask your motherf*cking, friends I'ma do it
I'm that nigga with the, AK, I'ma shoot it
I got, bitches who in love like I'm Cupid
If a nigga cross me up, on my mother, boy he stupid, he a

Dead man, walking
Chalk, tape posin', Grand Am skrtin'
Bad bitch, big booty, and she twerkin'
Ain't no flockin', I'm in Stockholm, why you stalking

Twerkin' off a sidekick, like I'm Robin
Dick have her moaning 'til the neighbors come a knockin'
Only time a nigga sweat when a nigga joggin'
I can't take advice from someone who gotta clock in
That's a Fendi, got two Bentleys, white and green
One Ferrari, all red like Supreme
Your bitch, a meat lover for the team
Try to cross me out, do you know what that mean

You a dead man, walking
Chalk, tape posin', Grand Am skrtin'
Bad bitch, big booty, and she twerkin'
Ain't no flockin', I'm in Stockholm, why you stalking