(KJ, what you got goin′ on, man?)
(Yo, Nick Papz, make it slap) Brr
Come with the gang, he one of the gang, I get him a lawyer or pay him a bail
He a lil' shooter, he ain′t got no –, I get one my – to send him some mail
I was just whippin' the 'Rari on Collins, givin′ ′em hell
She was just eatin' it ′til she cryin'
(Ooh), it′s givin' Chanel
Give me some money, I know what to do, I turn one into two and just give a scale
Stackin′ my coins, all my diamonds is water, I'm knowin' these – ain′t wishin′ me well
He got hit up that yard stick
(Brr), ooh, his kidneys failed
I've been puttin′ it on and you know I'ma pop – ′cause I'm really for real
I ain′t kissin' and tell, I'ma keep it a racky, – never could pack me
In the back of the ′Bach with a Maybach in back me, know I′m rich as an athlete
And I know what to do if them people come grab me, no, I'm never gon′ pass peaks
Say I'm tellin on who? Get you smoked automatically, it′ll go on my rap sheet
(Brr, brr)
Ooh, racks
She throwin' it ′cause it was fat
(Okay)
I'm blowin' it ′cause I be knowin′ I lock and get focused, and go get it back
(Yeah)
She gettin' real hype ′round Mike, Hov and I just told her, "Relax"
This – out the trenches, I'm fresh out the kitchen from turnin′ the stove to the max
And they killed my dog a few days ago, I ain't holdin′ it back
(Lil' B)
Can't even explain how I feel, unless I′m rollin′ off these pills
(Rollin')
I smoke some weed to go to sleep and wake up prayin′ it ain't real
Go through some new – every week, I need some head so I could chill
(For real)
For real, for real, for real, for real, really like that, for real, for real
– Got smacked, for real, for real, ain′t layin' like that in the field, for real
Really got back, I started with nothin′, I'll show you how to run up them Ms for real
For real, for real, for real, for real, for real
I'm on a G6 in a 747, I′m gettin′ high as a plane
That's my lil′ –, he a lil' shooter, I gave him a –, told him, "Blow out his brain"
I′m on jetskies in the ocean, givin' them hell
She eat the – up ′til she cry, cry, cry, it's givin' Chanel
I got them hitters with me, brought a whole lot of switches with me like I′m back in the trenches
I took the street route when I wake up and leave out, I can throw on Givenchy
I′m in the back of the 'Bach with a ′Bach followin' me with a Rolls behind
I got the Mac on the side of me, rackys, and I′m rich as a athlete
I don't know how to talk back to the police, I get caught with a whole ki′
Whippin' a Bimmer, I'm rockin′ a Rollie, havin′ trap money, low key
I'm rockin′ Prada on Prada, no LV, got more water than Maldives
Ain't havin′ problems with gettin' my Benjis, I can smell all the envy
Two hundred milli′, for real, for real, I'm still with – who kill, for real
I'm in a milli′, for real, for real, they goin′ on a drilly for real, for real
Run up a billi' for real, for real, I′m bailin' out Melly, for real, for real
I got the racks, the racks, the racks, for real, they came in a vacuum seal
I′m in a coupe, coupe, when I'm droppin′ the top off 'bout to hit off a cougar
I got a plug, plug when it comes to the drugs, drugs, I got money and shooters
You in the hood now, got them robbers and killers 'round, –, welcome to hell
I′m ′bout to touchdown where they runnin' and gunnin′ down, brought them sticks with us
I'm gettin′ Lewinsky in the back of the Benz from two friend skis
I got some mixed breeds tryna eat up my undies, leave hungry
I'm on a Lear, the vision crystal clear, uh, Cartier
She gave me mop, top all year, now it′s givin' some new gear
I got some – I'm ballin′ on this year, think I′m playin' for Pat Riley
I got the whole Skyami on G6 when they thought we was doin′ molly
I'm in the pent′, the one with the city, the view, with the glass, you get what you choose
Ridin' the Batmobile, two hundred to sit on the dash, it′s givin' a coupe
(Hey, hey, hey, hey)
Writer(s): Bunny Sigler, Nayvadius Wilburn, Phil Hurtt, Robert Williams, Nii Noi Tetteh, Nikolas Papamitrou, Sarthak Ramachandra Bharadwaj, Ari Nijam, Kazumi Tabata
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com