Lyrics

Yeah, I stay away from po-po Keep it polished, making commas, stay tight with my bro-bros Raking dollars, fill my pockets, homie that's a no-joke Keep it soupy with my groupies, peep the dookie gold rope I'm turning 'to a logo No joke Keep it polished, making commas, stay tight with my bro-bros Raking dollars, fill my pockets, homie that's a no-joke Keep it soupy with my groupies, peep the dookie gold rope I'm turning 'to a logo Check deposited I'm so good God with it Prof a consummate Don't sell me that plane if it don't come with bombs in it Maybe some missiles, making it sizzle, grease on the griddle I'm smoking a nugget Ayee ow, sorry I'm thinking out loud They thinking they figured us out, they fishing for clout I have a different account, like them leaving missing a mouth Bro got a gat with a gas mask on it Think about the fact you could pass that chronic Talking matter fact, let a rat get punched I'm the miggity miggity miggity miggity mack, dag gon' it That's that black Cadillac, demonic Pack that fat ass sat tectonic Rappers in my city be soft as porcelain Pay your respects to a true outdoorsman You only know me by music You don't know me, you stupid Put on your shoes and run to a conclusion Yeah, I stay away from po-po Keep it polished, making commas, stay tight with my bro-bros Raking dollars, fill my pockets, homie that's a no-joke Keep it soupy with my groupies, peep the dookie gold rope I'm turning 'to a logo No joke Keep it polished, making commas, stay tight with my bro-bros Raking dollars, fill my pockets, homie that's a no-joke Keep it soupy with my groupies, peep the dookie gold rope I'm turning 'to a logo Aye if it ain't thick, I don't touch it That goes for the knots in my pockets And the booties on the thots that I thought about Shh, quiet Y'all know what I'm saying, it's simple and it's plain I ain't really gotta talk about nothing, it's all in the vibe It can't be denied, fuck a piece of the pie, the whole thing is mine Got the keys to the sky, Cody be a pilot, he neat and he fly He don't need a stylist but he need a ride Cuz he drinks Ciroc, and he'll leave his keys in his wallet along With his mind, C-O-Z-Z he wylin' But we all know this ain't my first time though Is it my second or the third time? No Might be a little crazy but I earned my dough So don't tell me shit, it really irks my soul Damn Cody mac, please calm down You know you got plaques, you know you got racks You even got songs with Cole now You should probably be more mature now See the problem is the more you tell me not to do something Is when I really want to go and do some more now So keep this shit between my brothers And if they talking to the cops, then it's fuck 'em Yeah, I stay away from po-po Keep it polished, making commas, stay tight with my bro-bros Raking dollars, fill my pockets, homie that's a no-joke Keep it soupy with my groupies, peep the dookie gold rope I'm turning 'to a logo No joke Keep it polished, making commas, stay tight with my bro-bros Raking dollars, fill my pockets, homie that's a no-joke Keep it soupy with my groupies, peep the dookie gold rope I'm turning 'to a logo
Writer(s): Jacob Anderson, Charles Forsberg Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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