Pop Smoke

Look, I remember the days, same fit for a week straight

I used to eat fifty-cent cake, now, it’s Philippe’s

It’s Philippe’s for the steak and hella thots up in the Wraith

I can’t wife that thot, tell that bitch, «Get out of my face»

If I call you bae, you bae for the day

Or a bae for the night, you not my wife

The judge like, «Why you actin’ like a dick?»

I said, «I’m movin’ like I’m Steven Vic»

Baby, welcome to the party, uh

I hit the boy up and then I go skate in a ‘Rari