Like it’s His lyrics

[Intro]
(Reconboy)
(Run that back, West)

[Chorus: R3 Da Chilliman]
b*tch, I'm bustin', I'm in here sweatin' off a Perc'
Don't trust me, if he cross me, he get murked
b*tch, don't ask me, I got it tatted 'cause that's the turf
You livin' wrong, forgot to put your money first
He a trophy, he mean business when he lurk
Opp splash, let him have it like it's his
I need it all in a safe 'fore it get worse
Backyard bandits, go in homes like your crib

[Verse 1: R3 Da Chilliman]
I'm up workin', gettin' money, ain't no sleep
This four-five louder than an AMG
Glock on my hip like Rambo
Bounce out, drop sh*t, then we outro
n*gga, how the f*ck you a trophy?
You nevеr had a high-speed with the police
He don't know thе juice, that sh*t water-whipped
I been blampin' coupes, I was a problem kid
I'm in here clutchin' on the stick, he better not play with me
Brazilian butt lift if she came with me
He better tuck his sh*t 'fore we yank his piece
He belong with the busters, can't hang with me
Just met a stuffer, she ain't rich, but she finna be
You dropped some pape', n*ggas still tryna kill for free
'Bows gone, we them n*ggas with them P's
Your pockets empty, so she way out of your league
[Chorus: R3 Da Chilliman]
b*tch, I'm bustin', I'm in here sweatin' off a Perc'
Don't trust me, if he cross me, he get murked
b*tch, don't ask me, I got it tatted 'cause that's the turf
You livin' wrong, forgot to put your money first
He a trophy, he mean business when he lurk
Opp splash, let him have it like it's his
I need it all in a safe 'fore it get worse
Backyard bandits, go in homes like your crib

[Verse 2: 03 Greedo]
b*tch, I'm on parole, but I still tote a pole
Methamphetamine in my VVs'll make you overdose
Following the code, you already know
Just to get inside a n*gga gates, you gotta know the fours
f*ck the enemies, we havin' M's, doin' numbers
Giddy been shootin' like the white boy on the Thunder
'Cause Lil Pope'll wet you up over the 'bows like a plunger
b*tch, they call me Greedy, since a seed, I had the hunger
How many n*ggas in this b*tch totin' sticks?
Yeah, my bodyguard a blower, gotta get a n*gga frisked
Pat down, pat down, check a sucker n*gga pockets
Noodle me a n*gga soups, got a n*gga Stockton
Jalen Green inside the jeans, not the money, but the rockets
I don't f*ck with b*tches who be listening to opp sh*t
Push your baby mama buttons 'cause I got a lot of options
Like the top on all my foreigns, every day, I gotta drop sh*t
[Chorus: R3 Da Chilliman]
b*tch, I'm bustin', I'm in here sweatin' off a Perc'
Don't trust me, if he cross me, he get murked
b*tch, don't ask me, I got it tatted 'cause that's the turf
You livin' wrong, forgot to put your money first
He a trophy, he mean business when he lurk
Opp splash, let him have it like it's his
I need it all in a safe 'fore it get worse
Backyard bandits, go in homes like your cribs