A 200 (part. Lil Naay, Carlos Trvp y Little Homie)

I hook it up just to sleep
All these girls throwin' it, but I ain't falling for it
The streets ain't for kids
Music and the streets like Pacho used to run it

If it's all good, they got the heat
And we got it too, the guts to shoot back
We got more sticks than Chiquito Timbales
I lit it up like a secret, gotta keep it on the low

We’re cruising in the whip at two hundred
A bag of loud to vibe at three hundred
Your dude's in his feelings
And he doesn’t know you’re a bad girl going two hundred

We’re cruising in the whip at two hundred
A bag of loud to vibe at three hundred
Your dude's in his feelings
And he doesn’t know you’re a bad girl going two hundred

Criminal of criminals, the king of the weirdos
I got like four grand on three pedals
They tried to block me, I hit 'em hard
Don’t try to mess with the mafia, it won’t end well

Sundays on the circuit, the girls are all dressed up
We got the bad vibes, guiding like the cartels
Weed for the smokers, white for the sniffers
And if you can’t hit it like I do, you’re on another level

We’re gangsters like Fifty and we roll with Diddy
You guys don’t hit hard even when you’re trying to flex
The song is the worst, down there they got Kiri
And I’m gonna handle my business in the Witty, Witty

We’re cruising in the whip at two hundred
A bag of loud to vibe at three hundred
Your dude's in his feelings
And he doesn’t know you’re a bad girl going two hundred

We’re cruising in the whip at two hundred
A bag of loud to vibe at three hundred
Your dude's in his feelings
And he doesn’t know you’re a bad girl going two hundred

Putting on the pressure and we ain't the first
They shine in December, we shine all year
I’m all about the cash, I want a jeweler
A trapper for life, always chasing six figures

Easy money got me hooked on the system
So much so that I’m doing wrong with a hit song
Tell me, girl, what do you offer 'cause not everything fills me up
I know you want cash, just be real with me

I got the thirty, I also got the twenty
And a brand new Glock that’s got seventeen
Pass me a Siri, it pops off with a check
But if you act funny, I’m keeping all the dough

I’m rolling with a two hundred
A drum mag I got under the seat
With the loud, I can’t even feel it
I’ll hit it and you moved, I ain't in my feelings

We’re cruising in the whip at two hundred
A bag of loud to vibe at three hundred
Your dude's in his feelings
And he doesn’t know you’re a bad girl going two hundred

Dude, we do it different here
And we light it up in front of the crowd
Count on whoever you count on
Motherfucker, I don’t roll with people

I like 'em colorful, but I prefer the clear ones
Booties of all flavors, tell Richie to fill you in

I want her, but she’s lying
Says: I’m bad, that the percs don’t hit
That with me everything feels different
That she’s down for anything, that she doesn’t roll with people, yeah

She’s going to sleep, hides it under the pillow
If I’m not there, she’ll stick it in me
She’s a baddie, likes the bold ones
She swallows it whole with the high

To sleep, I hook it up
All these girls throwin' it, but I ain't falling for it
The streets ain't for kids
Music and the streets like Pacho used to run it

If it's all good, they got the heat
And we got it too, the guts to shoot back
We got more sticks than Chiquito Timbales
I lit it up like a secret, gotta keep it on the low

I’m rolling with a two hundred
A drum mag I got under the seat
With the loud, I can’t even feel it
I’ll hit it and you moved, I ain't in my feelings

We’re cruising in the whip at two hundred
A bag of loud to vibe at three hundred
Your dude's in his feelings
And he doesn’t know you’re a bad girl going two hundred

And he doesn’t know you’re a bad girl going two hundred
And he doesn’t know you’re a bad girl going two hundred

No, wiri-wiri, no, no, wiri-wiri
No, no, wiri-wiri, no, no, wiri-wiri
No, no, wiri-wiri, no, no, wiri-wiri
No, no, wiri-wiri, no, no, wiri-wiri