Intro 
You're a Genius, McFly 
AI 
It’s the Carter's son 
The Carter's 
Turn me up a lil' 

Verse 1 
Picture me, new 3D denim, I'm city rollin' (Rollin') 
But did I mention this my own clothin'? 
The fuck you mean? 
Made nigga, bought my own Rollie 
But if them crackers pull me over, they gon' say I stole it 
Good mornin', we on it, I went bought two S trophies 
My father left my sis and bros, to them, I feel I owed it 
But let's not be heroic, 'cause everybody roguish 
They don't want us totin' guns, but they let the fuckin' killers tote it 
Let's take a ride and see, though, where them people be, though 
Colt 45, the grip design, bought this bitch from Casino 
Soprano, no Soprino, we live life like Yung Bino 
Had a show in B-more, after that post on the block with Chino (I'm a hustlin' motherfucker) 
Look for a star on every hundred, C note 
I'm the top on YouTube, fuck a new school, I don't use no Vevo 
These niggas 'round me, they too cruel, they bust tools and die for me, though 
I don't pay money for no life, the murder pay off me, so 

Chorus 
Came out alright 
But I'm blinded from the life, I can’t see, though 
Got juveniles on the block, thirty stick hangin' out the Glock 
Bandana tied 'round the clip, and they go all out for me, though 

Verse 2 
Sucked all the pain up, let's fuck the game up 
Plenty niggas on the block pushin' that rock (It's the Carter's son) 
You got your change up, they brought your name up 
When it's war, we wet they block, and when it's said, this shit'll never be done 
I can't say I'm fucking with all this involvement 
These niggas ain't right and they ballin' 
I don't give a fuck, no, I call up Osama, my baba 
Like, "Load up and come and rob all them" (Rob all them) 
Venezuela ventilator 
My first trip to Georgia made 'em 
Some companions with ambitions, was 
Double G, NBA native 
I wish baptism could've saved us 
Never broke until the grave in 
Excuse ourselves, knock on the tables 
I make a pussy bite the pavement 
I can't say I'm fucking with all this involvement 
These niggas ain't right and they ballin' 
I don't give a fuck, no, I call up Osama, my baba 
Like, "Load up and come and rob all them" (Rob all them) 

Chorus
Came out alright
But I'm blinded from the life, I can’t see, though
Got juveniles on the block, thirty stick hangin' out the Glock
Bandana tied 'round the clip, and they go all out for me, though

Outro
That's my son, that's my slime
He on my dime, it's the Carter's son