Lyrics Hot Wings - 2 Chainz

Hot Wings

I’m the big homie now
Don’t forget that, I’m the big homie now
I got my spunk, Louie Vuitton
Truck in the front, what’re you doin'?
I look so good, don’t call me Unc'
She wanna suck, this ain’t a Buick
I pull it up, they wanna fuck
We gon' get high, what’re we doing?
I got some Perc, I got a pound
I got a crib, let’s go get to it
I got a semi, I got a Draco
Word to my family, straight outta ClayCo
Thought I was sweet, just like a Faygo
But I had killers all on my payroll
Watch how I move, just like it Rayon
64 Chainz, just like the crayons
I bought a hat, the one with the A on it
Pulled out my dick, told her to stay on it
I had a paper tag on three of 'em
I had the top dropped with the friends
I told 'em deuce, one like Deion
I say deuce, one like Deion
I go Bruce Wayne on you peons
Shit, I fuck with the Falcons, true (True)
Had more sacks than a lineman
I shoulda got a Heisman too, nigga, ha
Shit, shoot 'cause they hikin' that, hike
Check like a Nike hat, yup
I got the Midas pack, uh
Told the bih «Quiet, relax,» uh
I got my ho on the other line
I’m not bipolar, but borderline
I just might switch lanes, drop her off
Go back, get fried
That’s all she want, hot wings
Bitches fuckin' for some hot wings
Bitches fuckin' for American Deli
Bitches fuckin' for some eye cream
She just want her twenty piece
All flats with the lemon pepper
I was the first one to put her in the first class
Bitch, get your shit together
Bitch ain’t never flown before
Bitch tried to come through security
With some tennis shoes on, ho
Take the shit off, bitch
Real big, big boss music (Boss music)
Big boss music
Big boss, big, big boss music (Boss)
That big boss music, big, big, big, big boss music
That big boss music, big, big, big, big boss music
Big boss music
Big, big, big boss music
Big boss music
Big, big, big boss music
Big boss music
You better get used to it
Ain’t no falling off, niggas goin' straight up
You better get used to it
I need a raise, I ain’t taking paycuts
You better get used to it
100 for a verse, 100 for a show
You better get used to it
Every ten a mill', on the low
I’m all about the bag, no need to brag
Ring cost a Jag, dreads to the back like a shag
Smoke you like SIG in the mag
I’m all over that
They callin' me Flair
They callin' me DiBiase
My girl ballin, Taurasi
2 Chainz, time Versaci
They don’t sell 'em in Foot Locker
Curve game on BluBlocker
Southside with a F
F stand for a few options
Dealership, I don’t do auctions
Fuck clothes, I need a new closet
My new watch is moonwalkin'
This somethin' she don’t do often
Bitch ain’t never flown before (Uh)
Bitch tried to come through security
With some tennis shoes on, ho
Take the shit off, bitch
Real big, big boss music (Yeah)
Big boss music
Big boss, big, big boss music (I'm the big homie now)
That big boss music, big, big, big, big boss music
(I'm the big homie)
That big boss music, big, big, big, big boss music
Big boss music
Big, big, big boss music (Big, big)
Big boss music
Big, big, big boss music (I'm the big homie now)
Big boss music (Yeah)
I’m the big homie now, yeah
I’m the big homie now