[Lyric] Foreign (JayR City)

[Intro]
I mean I came from the jungle
Grew up with the hustlers
Did I ask anybody to be like these niggas?
No fucking way
Did I become just like these niggas?
You motherfucking right

[Chorus]
Riding with my shooter, choppers on the sea
Sliding in that Chevy, thirties [?]
Finger on the trigger, he just need a reason
Don't think we gon' do it, make him a believer
It's the sauce
It's that heart
It's that cook-up
It's that raw
Oh it's that foreign
It's that pull up
It's that push up
It's the sauce
It's that heart
It's that cook-up
It's that raw
Ball on niggas, let me show you how to do it
Flex on haters, let me get back to it
Bro, hold up
[Verse 1]
Just got in from trappin', tell her bring my slippers
It's marbles on my floors, ain't trying to stain my kitchen
He say he ain't got it, pay his house a visit
Praying for his life, I'm praying God don't hear him
Boy, they got me started, chimney so big [?]
Currently I'm flexing [?] started from the bottom
Worry about a broad, that's a broke nigga problem
Oh my God, always childish
Know they gon' hate it, [?]
Got a stripper at the estate, [?]
Got them leaving work early just to help me count it
Being broke, driving these hoes insane
Benjamin is my therapist, [?]
Several mental illnesses, balling on these niggas 'till I feel I have embarrassed them
A God among [?]
I'm gone

[Chorus]
Riding with my shooter, choppers on the sea
Sliding in that Chevy, thirties
Finger on the trigger, he just need a reason
Don't think we gon' do it, make him a believer
It's the sauce
It's that heart
It's that cook-up
It's that raw
Oh it's that foreign
It's that pull up
It's that push up
Oh my God
It's the sauce
It's that heart
It's that cook-up
It's that raw
Ball on niggas, let me show you how to do it
Flex on haters, let me get back to it
Bro, hold up
[Verse 2]
Sickening, they sick of me
Cash the blow consistently
Those that don't get no money got no business standing close to me
This right here that cook up, and they beggin' for my recipe
Lord I'm so high above them, all their prayer should be sent to me
Ok, I'm pulling out in that T-rex and that old school and that's foreign
Ok we tag team and I probably drive it [?]
She's on molly, I'm on money
That's the only drug that I'm snorting
Yeah your broad gave me that slap top [?]
Say you do what you want when you poppin'
So we sellin' cane for that profit
All types of handles niggas, ain't never seen 'em
We ain't arguing with you [?]
Back to balling on these fuck niggas, scuffin' up my sneakers
All we wear is Nikes, Jumpman jumping over Adidas, wavy

[Chorus]
Riding with my shooter, choppers on the sea
Sliding in that Chevy, thirties [?]
Finger on the trigger, he just need a reason
Don't think we gon' do it, make him a believer
It's the sauce
It's that heart
It's that cook-up
It's that raw
Oh it's that foreign
It's that pull up
It's that push up
It's the sauce
It's that heart
It's that cook-up
It's that raw
Ball on niggas, let me show you how to do it
Flex on haters, let me get back to it
Bro, hold up
[Outro]
Wait hold up
Wait hold up
I'm here