Rembrandt...Run It Back (Feat. Vince Staples)

Chorus: JID You don't give a damn, then we don't give a fuck On God, I been waitin' for one of y'all pussy niggas to buck Still starving, ribs touching Touch the team and you get touched like homescreen buttons Hoes scream loud, Jennifer Hudson when them thangs start bustin' Alright Verse 1: JID Shit talkin', slick talk Pissed off, stick talk Diss track, get mad Rap niggas big trash Your squad, my squad Mismatched, pissants Cheese chase, gym rats Picture paint, Rembrandts Tree trunk, thin branch I leave, come back This fall, this all y'all niggas done came up with My, what a bit of a change up These niggas lame, we in minimal danger I got the banger, just give me the names My nigga put me in the game and I'm ready to flame, I'm anxious Put the motherfuckin' bank on it Verse 2: J. Cole Big nuts hangin', big bucks bringin', fuck 'em all No slut shamin', money in the Cayman, I'm appalled Niggas swear they bangin', feds got 'em singin' on the squad Crack rock slangin' on blacktop pavement, tryna ball Line 'em up on the wall, three deep, final call Knee-deep, squeeze three, beep beep, Tylenol Pulled up one deep, no squad, just me Just God, no prob', real niggas tend to fuck with me No jewelry, no stunt from me Just a Bentley truck, and an empty cup of whatever that is You too concerned 'bout how clever that is Me, I'm concerned how much bread that it is Or lettuce that is I been got my mama out debt off of this I'm fucking the game, you niggas is lame You won't even get a little head out of this Bet I'ma miss, you niggas is dense, my hits goin' over the fence How is you niggas so rich I'm not so convinced, my wrist costin' more than your whip And I don't wear that no more, that shit there look tacky Yeah, I'm the G.O.A.T., no nigga, don't at me Put on your coat, the world gon' get colder This is my year, don't say I ain't told you, nigga Chorus: JID You don't give a damn, then we don't give a fuck On God, I been waitin' for one of y'all pussy niggas to buck Still starving, ribs touching Touch the team and you get touched like homescreen buttons Hoes scream loud, Jennifer Hudson when them thangs start bustin' Interlude: Vince Staples Ayy, ayy, nigga, ayy, ayy Ayy, yo, uh-uh Ayy, yo Ayy, ain't this that, um... Ayy, ain't this the Dreamville shit This the, um... Verse 3: Vince Staples I had a dream, I had a Glock, I had a beam, run it back I had a dream, she in Celine, I'm in Supreme, run it back Y'all had the dream, I had the guap, I hit the green, run it back Ready to go, ready to score, ready for war, run it back I'm finna bring the summer back I'm finna bring the Hummer back Snuck my gun in the function I bust, he not coming back Dummy racks, hundred stacks Police killed 'bout a hundred blacks Don't get killed tryna run a lap Nigga, don't get killed tryna run a...