Good Dope lyrics

[Chorus: Marlo & Gunna]
Got a n*gga stackin' caps
I'm servin' them bags, I run through 'em all dog
f*ckin' on your b*tch when you call dog
You a b*tch goin' through a b*tch call log
And the Hi-Tech red, that's real raw
Take a sip of that lean, wash the pill down
He a gangster but a n*gga still squeal now
f*ck boy tell me how you still real now
I can hit Marlo, get ten pounds
Too late for you try to be real now
Soup truck coupe, switch lanes now
I pull up to the show Balmained down
Copycat try to have the same sound
Cooked up good dope, run the J's out
Pull up with a stick, put a bullet in his mouth
Never cashin' in, took the cash route

[Verse 1: Marlo]
And them sold out dates got a n*gga back in they bag
You reach for the cash and I bust at your ass
And I was just sippin' on Act
Got a bustdown cuban link choker, mink gotta match
b*tch say she wanna f*ck me, no strings attached
And I was gettin' fresh just to work in the trap
When the trap came, n*gga got work in the map
And don't talk on phones, n*gga workin' that tap
[Verse 2: Gunna]
n*ggas owe the mob, better pay they tab
Whole lot of money, gotta keep my strap
Tried to stop sippin' syrup but a n*gga relapsed
Bangin' my gang like a motherf*ckin' frat
I don't love a ho, I can never get attached
Gave your ass a loan and you better bring it back
Push up on your ho, she was lookin' like a snack
n*ggas play tough 'til a n*gga get whacked
All the coupes fast, n*gga might as well drag
Hundred thousand cash in the Goyard bag
Pull up in your hood n*gga, I don't need a pass
All blue hundreds, got these f*ck n*ggas mad
Robbed a lil n*gga, ain't have to use mags
Two-hundred twenty, n*gga had to do the dash
Killin' all you bullies, think you bad to the bad
Marlo countin' Coogi with two hundred on the dash

[Chorus: Marlo & Gunna]
Got a n*gga stackin' caps
I'm servin' them bags, I run through 'em all dog
f*ckin' on your b*tch when you call dog
You a b*tch goin' through a b*tch call log
And the Hi-Tech red, that's real raw
Take a sip of that lean, wash the pill down
He a gangster but a n*gga still squeal now
f*ck boy tell me how you still real now
I can hit Marlo, get ten pounds
Too late for you try to be real now
Soup truck coupe, switch lanes now
I pull up to the show Balmained down
Copycat try to have the same sound
Cooked up good dope, run the J's out
Pull up with a stick, put a bullet in his mouth
Never cashin' in, took the cash route