Lyrics

Yeah (Aimonmyneck, at it again) Paper Route business Long live Flippa (Ayo, Shotto, turn that shit up) Tell them lil' boys that (yeah) I'm on the route to go get me some paper (shew, shew) Chasin' this paper gon' fuck up my route (shew, shew, uh, uh) This an empire, no game, but don't play with these letters I promise I'm takin' your, shh (fah-fah-fah-fah-fah) Yeah, bitch bad, I'm takin' her out (yeah) Booty so big, hard to sit in my lap (yeah) Big pretty titties, let me feel it, ooh, soft as a cloud Nut on her nose, then I'm back to the trap (I'm gone) Hell yeah, I'm back on the route (let's go) I was on go, where you headed to now? (Skrrt) Me and my chopper don't be with no crowd Bro don't be with me when we on the business If this 'bout money, I'm bringin' 'em 'round ('round) Paper Route business, can't sit at this round (table) table (ayy) Hey, Daddio, break this shit out (ayy, break out) Man, my niggas go back-to-back, Maybach Don't make me call Glock All my niggas got cash, no cow (yeah) We the ones made it in the game with no deal (yeah) Handsome fuck niggas, they know what we 'bout (yeah) Way before rap, I had big racks, for real (big racks) 200 P's in the middle of the South (phew) On my grandma, we been had racks Been turnin' everybody down I wanted money, I won with the cap They can fool y'all, but I know what they 'bout (yeah) Yeah, I ain't nothin' like these niggas that rap Come sell your soul, come and shoot you some craps We Illuminati, secret society Come around here Don't be runnin' your mouth (shh, don't do it) Paper Route business, whole lotta e'rything (yeah) They know they ain't the ones Runnin' the town (fah-fah-fah-fah-fah, mob) Get back gang, turn his smile to a frown (yeah) I wrap you up like these verses and pounds (pounds) 30 rounds on me I'm standin' my ground (fah, fah, fah, yeah) Plain Jane, rose gold look like a gram, Glock (yeah) Smokin' opp pack out the pound (opp pack) These niggas students, they study my 'gram (yeah, Glock) If I press one button, that shit can go down If I press one button, that shit can go down (yeah) Like my drop top (skrrt) He got smoked in the car (fah, fah, fah), no hot box Cuz playin' with squares, no hopscotch (phew) Free bro, he got caught with a hot Glock (yeah) Glizock in her mouth like a cough drop (Glizock, yeah) If I ain't gettin' money, I'm gettin' head (yeah) Pockets fat, think I need Jenny Craig (pockets fat, think I need Jenny Craig, yeah) If I'm Glock opp, I'd be scared (be scarred, yeah) Lord knows I had a bitch that bad (yeah) And I hate niggas that be lyin' about puttin' in work Made a million dollars 'fore I made a kid (kid) I married to the money, and baby girl Even though I might flirt (ayy) Give a nigga shots, no gin (fah, fah, fah) I run around this bitch, get my coins like a Subway Surfer (shew, shew, ayy) These niggas cap more than lids (cap) Me and Kenny Muney been about this money since birth Muney (got 'em) 5L (you dig?) I'm on the route to go get me some paper Chasin' this paper gon' fuck up my route (uh-huh) This an empire, no game, but don't play with these letters I promise I'm takin' your- Yeah, bitch bad, I'm takin' her out (yeah) Booty so big, hard to sit in my lap (yeah) Big pretty titties, let me feel it, ooh, soft as a cloud Nut on her nose, then I'm back to the trap (I'm gone) Hell yeah, I'm back on the route (I'm back on the route) Yeah, Paper Route business, nigga The only business Ain't sleepin', cuz, what you say, my nigga? Fuck 'em Fuck e'rybody, fuck all them niggas Long live Flippa With us or against us Nah, you against us, you can't get with us, nigga
Writer(s): Kenneth Greene, Vladislav Zabornikov, Markeyvius Lashun Cathey, Deshaun Williams, Amram Mkrtchyan Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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