Songtexte

Wheezy outta here To riches from rags I just believed in myself and somehow, I made it out the block (woah) I hit the road, I spend a 20 clip minimum every time I wanna shop High out my mind I might just go buy another pair of some shit I already got (woah) I'm gettin' bags, I'm right in the middle of quarantine Made ten million on the dot Rick Owen pants, my right pocket full of them Xans I know that I said I would stop Man with the plan, I told 'em, "Just follow my lead" And I took my whole team to the top Don't check the tag and I don't check the receipt If I see it, I want it, I cop Shoutout GB's, I got some connections in Queens I get my J's before they drop Where do I start? All of my albums on charts, all of my cars push-to-start I had no hope I was just broke as a joke, I go shoppin' and I fill my cart You wouldn't believe me, I just been takin' it easy Pockets, they sloppy, they cheesy Made me feel guilty for all the shit I'm receivin' Your actions lookin' deceivin' Beverly Hills, I told her to stay where my suite is Told her the entry is keyless I'm gettin' paid to go on the mic And I feel like Mic' Jackson when she let me beat it Feel like a champ I got them Louis V pants, and they come with the permanent creases Look at my feet I got on them Travis Scott dunks, I got friends and them family pieces I make the plan, then they gon' hop out the van And take you for whatever you got My bitch is tanned, I'm on a yacht out in Cabo Got villas that take up the block When I get geeked, fuck around, tell her I love her But I really use her for sex Let her be free, I ain't 'bout catchin' no feelings I'm catchin' a flight on a jet She try to leave me, no, I'm not takin' it easy Fuck on her friend, she upset Knew I was smart, my teachers ain't think I'd achieve Give a fuck about passin' a test They wanna be me, million in diamonds, believe me Got rings, I could buy a Patek Opps lookin' dusty, I got some demons So trust me, keepin' my foot on they neck Where do I start? All of my albums on charts, all of my cars push-to-start I had no hope I was just broke as a joke, I go shoppin' and I fill my cart You wouldn't believe me, I just been takin' it easy Pockets, they sloppy, they cheesy Made me feel guilty for all the shit I'm receivin' Your actions lookin' deceivin' Beverly Hills, I told her to stay where my suite is Told her the entry is keyless I'm gettin' paid to go on the mic And I feel like Mic' Jackson when she let me beat it Feel like a champ I got them Louis V pants, and they come with the permanent creases Look at my feet I got on them Travis Scott dunks, I got friends and them family pieces Wheezy outta here
Writer(s): Amir Esmailian, Jasper Harris, Navraj Singh Goraya, Wesley Tyler Glass Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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