[Intro: BFB Da Packman & Luh Monti]
Yeah, big Lunch Crew shit, man
Got the youngest, hottest nigga out of Flint right now
And we 'bout to do our thing the Lunch Crew way, y'ello
Yeah, Temp gang, dumbass nigga
Yeah
Yeah, let me tell y'all niggas somethin'

[Verse 1: Luh Monti]
Bitch, before I signed my deal, I was seein' stubs
How the fuck he a trapper? He never sold a 'bow
Before the fame, I got diamonds on my wrist
I'm gettin' money, I might buy my bitch a kit
Came off the road with a Bentley, slapped it on my wrist
When this bitch called me broke, I damn near bought that bitch
Brand-new Rollie on my wrist, I could've bought a brick
Niggas always hatin' on me, boy, get off my dick
Leave that to your bitch
All the hoes wanna fuck me since I got rich
Oh, this nigga talkin' wet? Chop got thirty-six
Oh, you kissin' on that bitch? Last week, she sucked thirty dicks
I ain't Chicken P, but I could show you how to bust a brick
Boy, you did not buy that watch, boy, you stole that kit
I ain't gon' judge you, lil' nigga, get it how you get it
If you think I'm cappin' in them songs, then come see how I'm livin'
Snatched off in the coupe, I forgot the ceiling
Labels keep callin' my phone, bitch, I want a million
Rob a nigga for everything, he can't feed his children
I won't tell you what kind of car we in, but just peep the ceiling
Upstairs beatin' your bitch down, she fell through the ceiling
HTG, we up next, we finna tweak the menu
Hit him with the green and red beam, now he think it's Christmas
Quell, shoot that bitch up, that bitch look suspicious
I got a bitch, all these hoes in my DMs, I let mine hit 'em
Bitch, I'm ridin' with some pits, get 'em
Caught an opp out, the chop jammed, but I shot the pistol
Big .308s hit his head, he thought it was a missile

[Verse 2: Awall Trent]
I'ma buy a hundred grams if I don't make it rappin'
Make them bitches take a tube, then I re-pack 'em
Plug said take a five, he won't even tax me
Hit them bitches with the— now they look ashy
They say they want me dead, I ain't took a shot yet
They say they dug my grave, I ain't seen a box yet
My nigga shootin' movies, you gon' see a plot quick
Have a nigga rubbin' on his body, all this hot shit
Yeah, bitch, say it's up, we bust
Interrogated two times, I ain't told once
I was somewhere on the yard, you was on a bunk
I know niggas that'll ice you for a honey bun
Hold on, wait, let's get this understood
Really sold three-for-fifties, really from the hood
Gave a dime for some head, double if it's good
Shot the Drac' so many times, I damn near burned the wood
Yeah

[Verse 3: BFB Da Packman]
Shit-talkin' music only, but it's all art
Million-dollar nigga, still stealin' out of Walmart
Feds question me, bitch, I'm silent as a dog fart
Opened up a brick of black tar and heard a dog bark
I need to stop 'fore they hit me with a CCE
Nigga think he buyin' lows, boy, that's CBD
Fuck a big homie, man, them niggas ain't wanna see me eat
Eat the whole bucket of chicken and just leave me grease
I really started from the bottom, I don't need pity
Cash App her five hundred 'cause her weave liftin'
Get respect, power come right after, you don't need 50
Hell yeah, that bitch bad, but is her feet pretty?
I faced some different struggles
Bust open a pound of Dirty Donuts, got the kitchen musty
Off three lines and two Percs, that's a triple-double
I know I ain't shit, but my mama and my children love me
Let me hit my cup
Look, I done dropped more fours than the Vietnamese
She see my dick and mouth start waterin' like she finna eat
Veneers too big, when she suck it, I can feel her teeth
I love a ghetto ho that season chicken in the kitchen sink
Let me hit my cup
Alright, look
Fat, ugly nigga, but my bitch make up for it
Hoes fuckin' for the free, you sick if you rapin' for it
Fuckin' on my ex sister, on the low, she hate me for it
My bitch a barefaced baddie, she don't need no makeup on it
I used to wear hand-me-downs, now it's deadstock
Balenci' for my bitch, but I'm fuckin' with the Bedrock
I'm slidin' on this ho like Big Perm did on Craig block
The best in Valets pack can put a brick inside a headlock
Talk to me nice, baby, I'm a gentleman
My Dallas bitch love my accent, I'm from Michigan
Gettin' kinda dizzy while I'm mixin', cut the ceiling fan
Scary Movie, sellin' fentanyl with my little hand
Uh, hold on
Alright, look
I'mma hot 'lantern with a hot thottie
Pray over the pussy when I fuck 'cause the crotch godly
It ain't trickin', bitch, I got a hundred for the slop toppy
Bling-bling came from Spudd the jeweler, this is not Wafi

[Outro: BFB Da Packman & Luh Monti]
You know what? We done
Lunch Crew shit, man
We done, big Lunch Crew, y'ello