Songtexte

Uh It's recordin'? It's recordin'? (Ayy, let that shit ride, Tav) It's been recordin'? Bet, keep everything Uh, let's go Let's go, ayy I told a bitch I'm him, quit playin' Tryna ride with a boss? Well, bitch, get in Said I stay on the road like the Michelin Man Put an M on your head like a Michigan fan Ayy, I'm ballin' so hard, I might hoop when I land I be ready to dump, I might shoot through my pants Been on the block, boy, but we just shoot, we don't dance If my opp get locked, put suits on his ass Shoot my opp that suit, what you mean? That's a case What that is in your pants? What you mean? This a Drac' Bitch, I don't got friends, all my niggas some apes Bitch, I don't got friends, all my niggas gorilla Thirty racks on me, ridin' 'round with a killer Big-ass bale same size as a pillow Real ice on my neck, ho hug me and shiver Poured an eight up in Austin, change the color of the river Real Wock', I'll turn a bitch purple Say I drip like a pastor, I'm servin' the ushers Say she ain't gotta clock in, but I'm workin' her Bitch, you ain't fuck when I was broke, shit personal Hop out with two straps, feel like I'm Urkel Ayy, hop out with two straps just like a dyke be My niggas ballin', y'all niggas sideline, Spike Lee Niggas act gangster, but sweeter than iced tea I told a bitch I'm him, quit playin' Tryna ride with a boss? Well, bitch, get in Said I stay on the road like the Michelin Man Put an M on your head like a Michigan fan Ayy, I'm ballin' so hard, I might hoop when I land I be ready to dump, I might shoot through my pants Been on the block, boy, but we just shoot, we don't dance If my opp get locked, put suits on his ass I told a bitch I'm him, quit playin' Tryna ride with a boss? Well, bitch, get in Said I stay on the road like the Michelin Man Put an M on your head like a Michigan fan Ayy, I'm ballin' so hard, I might hoop when I land I be ready to dump, I might shoot through my pants Been on the block, boy, but we just shoot, we don't dance If my opp get locked, put suits on his ass Hit his block with drums, shit sound like a band And this money I'm tryna get quicker than sand Real hustler, I hope you can get what I'm sayin' After the show, gotta have ass to get on this van I say gotta have ass to get on this Sprinter (gotta have ass) Countin' paper, then caught me a splinter And don't think shit sweet, ain't nothin' here Splenda I'm gettin' money every day, newer paper than printers Ayy, say I'm on they ass like suspenders And he be in the house like he on suspension And the stick in my pants, that's the reason I'm limpin' Just like McCaffery, sneakers be Christian We fire, roll the 'Wood, double cup what I'm missin' My lil' partners got aim, them young niggas gifted So many rods in this bitch like we finna go fishin' Before I went to prom, I went on a mission Before I went in the bathroom, went in the kitchen Learned how to count money 'fore I learned how to spell I'm rockin' water, bumped into a whale The finesser, I could sell dope to a scale The finesser, I could sell hay to a scarecrow Ayy, I could sell PC to Metro Might just sell a ball to LaMelo Heard you broke, can't bond out, jammed like Jell-O Jammed like Jell-O These niggas jammed like Jell-O Ayy, ayy Bump into your ho, I tell the bitch hello You feel me? Ayy, said bump into your ho, I tell the bitch hello Ayy Play and get rolled like a 'rello, gang
Writer(s): Tavis Moore, Yaven Mauldin Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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