In "Burnt Shit," Lil Baby contrasts sleeping on a porch and a floor with mansions, Porsches, and million-dollar decor, tracing a rise from Atlanta blocks to Ibiza and Monaco. The repeated bankroll and "burnt shit" hook frames wealth as both armor and appetite, while loyalty stays coded in gang tags and silence around police. Even amid yachts and Pilates, the song keeps one foot in survival, where keeping it gangsta means never forgetting what the come-up cost.
Burnt Shit Lyrics by Lil Baby
From the bridge to the water, my coupe like a tortoise
The mansion important, I’m Atlanta, Georgia
I’m Maison Margielas, I still rock the Jordans
All night on that block, used to sleep on the porch
We run the city, go check the reports
20 west all the way, eighty-five north
GT3 me when I’m pushin’ this Porsche
Can’t never forget when I slept on the floor
Now the spots got a million decor at least (Least)
Think about what I did and record it (Record it)
GSP get behind me, I’m floorin’ it (Skrrt)
Gang tags on my ass, got them kids eyein’
Had to change up my life and I’m still tryin’
Keep it gangsta, that’s just what it is, slime
In the streets, I got reach like I’m Wi-Fi
Tell the police you don’t know nothin’, you my kind
Summertime, kickin’ back in Ibiza
AP Skelly, I Birkin the skis up
I met three, I’m from Europe, ain’t seen nothin’
Get them back to the States, get them cleaned up
We go mute me for months, have them teed up
Surfin’ YT, these folks like I’m Bieber
I can’t bring bro with me ’cause he leashed up
Once I’m done, give him back, I don’t keep nothin’
Got a bankroll on me, on some turnt shit
Got a bankroll on me, on some turnt shit
Forty bitches with me on some burnt shit
Got a bankroll on me, on some turnt shit
Got a bankroll on me, on some turnt shit
Forty bitches with me on some burnt shit
Tell her swallow me, I got her throat poppin’
Get them spins on me, Monaco yacht hoppin’
Count that collard, I’m still tryna find her waist
Top and bottom, she shaped like the figure eight
Like a rockstar, G6 middle of the day
Niggas finished, I’m calling a spade a spade
One of these tennis chains cost me two hundred K
Stop comparin’ these peasants, they not the same
Twenty racks on the belt, so my shirt crop
South of Italy, baby, let’s coast off
Doin’ Pilates on top of the ocean
You can post what you want, I don’t post nothin’
Got one blonde, she fine, she goin’, goin’
I need two hundred more, no more one
Overseas, got these folks throwin’ fours up
Louis umbrella, they can’t record her
Got the tribe in the back, they with bro and them
Forty-five, this shit goin’ live, yeah
You get high, you know we get higher
On the sand, sippin’ Piña Colada
I had gave her a job, but I fired her
Every time that she call now I’m tired of
Takin’ shots right to back, gettin’ fired up
Gave her AP to go, baby, time’s up
Got a bankroll on me, on some turnt shit
Got a bankroll on me, on some turnt shit
Forty bitches with me on some burnt shit
Got a bankroll on me, on some turnt shit
Got a bankroll on me, on some turnt shit
Forty bitches with me on some burnt shit
Got a bankroll on me, on some turnt shit
Got a bankroll on me, on some turnt shit (Yeah, yeah, yeah)
Forty bitches with me on some burnt shit (Yeah)
Forty bitches with me on some burnt shit (Yeah, yeah)
