LV Beats, Lil’ Vader, K2, Lil duck - 7am in Osoyoos lyrics

Rapping, drilling tooth, filling
Icy, chilling drinking, Spilling
Fatso in the gym why he acting tough?
He keeps skipping days he'll never be buff
He built like a turkey and his ass is stuffed
He keeps eating food he's never had enough
In the hood, spilling blood
Riding off, flood their block
They pull up, they leave rocked
Ammunition, keep it stocked
Seen the locker, opps are shocked
On their turf, they still flock
On their knees, head to Glock
Done by noon, check the clock
(Bitch, Uh, Yea, Yea, Fuck it
Amir on the Beat)

Surrounded by hoes left and right
Leaving a man in delight
I'm the king, give me my ring
Shooting an opp, like it's a game
Homie in Sauder, getting real broader
Program built, for a toddler
Got a lotta mass, not a lotta class
Thinks he's athletic, but gets gassed
I take no Ls, unlike you
Built like a panda, no kong-fu
She be on my dick, give me no break
Still got a girl, make no mistakes
I got a 'rari, don't feel sorry
Ask me questions, like I'm safari
Bitches wash dishes
When they see the richness

Lil Duck, he thick
I'm talking brains and body
He ain't got no hoes
He ain't catching no bodies
He talking about COD
If he talking about shotties
He might catch a dub
But he's out like the Saudi's
(Crash out like the Saudis)
Drill beat, like Fivi
Switch to the trap like my name Lil Yachty
Kick shit, karate
Keep me the venom like my last name Hardy
K2, he thick too
Ain't talk to a bitch since grade 2
His hair need a fade but he
Might catch a fade too
Snipe like Wesley I ain't
Talking about Blade 2
Why I'm dissing my friends could
Be dissing the opps
Y A's a pussy his life is a flop
How he carry a mace acting
Like he got stripes
I could've fucked on the love of his life
Could've put him in jail but
I ain't no snitch
Why he talking on sight Y A's a bitch
If I spend all my cash I'm still staying rich
If you spent all your cash might
End up in a ditch these hoes acting silly
Since Wayne dropped Tha Carter I've
Been wanting a milli
I travel from Brooklyn to Philly
The way I can rap on the
Trap or start sounding drilly
She ain't getting no rings
I call her James Harden
On point with a weapon, like I'm Clint Barton
If I'm out on the field you know I'm starting
My money come thick like cardboard carton