[Hook: Lucky 7]
I got bands up in my pocket, boy I’m livin’ large
Killin’ verses, just waitin’ for the judge to charge
Chillin’ with my constellation cause we all some stars
Boy I’m livin’ large, catch me in a foreign car
Burnin’ paper, screamin’ fuck a hater cause we goin’ far
We in this bitch a hundred deep, they know who we are
We livin’ large, we livin’ large
If they want it, come and get it, you know where we are

[Verse 1: Lucky 7]
Foreign all over my body, I pull inside of a brand new Ferrari, I’m gone
Prolly swimmin’ in some women, I’m sorry, but you know the kid puttin’ on
Every time I walk into the building motherfucker lookin’ at me, tryin’ hide they bitch, why?
Everybody know the son’ll make their chick disappear like it’s nothin’ but a magic trick
Ay, I got get it, every little bit of it, I’m killin’ it, so I don’t got you feelin’ it, I skip a little bit of Christmas
But I’m gifted, can’t miss this, shot explicit but I’m shittin’ on competition
Ay, ay, I’m young and gettin’ it, only nineteen
Snapback my crown, call me the king, 309 my city, who against the team?

[Hook]

[Verse 2: Mario Canon]
Swag on my body, my pockets’ karate
I’m feelin’ like Rocky, nobody can stop me
I need a Bugatti, Roberto Cavalli
A thotty, [?], you bitch is a hobby
They be like, “Canon why you act like that?”, rat-tat-tat, pat-pat-pat
Strapped like sandals, [?], pocket full of vandals, light a n***a up like a candle
Y’all can’t stand it, catch me out in traffic, bet I’ll put your bitch on my team just like a draft pick
I ain’t never lackin’, [?], shootin’ n***as, we don’t play no D like the Mavericks, yeah
[Hook]

[Verse 3: Montana of 300]
It’s Mister Let That Forty, uh huh, let that forty bang
I got bands all in pockets, bitches hope I make it rain
Check my bags and check my tags, bitch I’m finessin’, flexin’, strappin’
And my concerts, just imagine, tickets sell out, Dexter Jackson
Cause they know who the flyest, FGE, I’m the pilot
Got labels tryna buy it, I’m livin’ large like a giant
And I got thick bands of that purple that flood my jeans like Urkel
I’m double-strapped, no parachute, and this fly shit, no bird poop
Got Polo on me, Gucci on me, yeah you know I’m fly as fuck
And every time I pull up, hoes on me no fire truck
All up on my [?] dick, haters tryna [?] shit
Run up on my [?] and catch seven from this canon quick
I’m livin’ large, don’t doubt that, foreign things, hop out that
Got a bad bitch that counts stacks with a stupid ass and she bounce back
That murder shit, I’m bout that, guns all where my house
When them hollow tails pop out that , you get smoked like [?]

[Hook]