Turn me up (Haha, PBell)
Ooh
Yeah, yeah (Dxnte, you snapped on this one)
Yeah, huh
Brand new Rollie, it look like peach
I make them hoes away my seat
Ice my Rollie just like Meek, them Forgis fours on all my feet
I do drugs 'cause I be geeked, my O. T. run was just like Meech
Got Cali' bud, this shit ain't cheap
I get shit done just off one tweet
I can pop my shit for real 'cause it's real life, it ain't no act
If that Rollie ain't at least three hundred, that shit light, them ain't no racket
She not my type, but still'll fuck a bitch on sight 'cause I like racks
Fill my closet up, mix match, that's on my life, it look like Sax's
I like hoes that's gon' be hoes, but I hate hoes that play they roles
I smoke 'bows and I like clothes, that dog too strong, it stank my nose
You ain't coppin' least two O's, don't hit my phone, bro, what you on?
Fuck this rap 'cause this shit bold, how niggas told it and sell out shows?
I been poppin' since like ten, bitch, I can pop it 'cause I'm him
Off the lot with Maybach Benz, flooded rocks, bitch, I might swim
What type of games niggas be playin', dog? Shot still ain't spinned
Bentley drop, it cost two men, flooded the watch with all blue gems
Bitch, I'm talkin' Flintstones and gettin' fent' gone, yeah, since the flip phone
Half a million standin' from my foot up to my hip bone
New compressor, step when it's so hard, I put a six on
Fluffy bag filled up with all coins, it got wicks on
Rich nigga, that's ten thousand gone, I put fits on
Plot a bitch from Cali', get the load before I get home
Pour up yellow Tussin, this shit so old, look like it's hit on
Paroles2Chansons dispose d’un accord de licence de paroles de chansons avec la Société des Editeurs et Auteurs de Musique (SEAM)
