Lyrics Pink 10s - Babyface Ray, Est Gee

Pink 10s

Coach me Joey
Yeah, yeah, yeah, what up Babyface?
Yeah
Yeah, fifty-five hundred
(I feel amazing)
Big general
Ayy, pink 10s, bring a friend, Burberry peacoat, wheat Timbs (Look)
Thinking back to '08, street spins
I done got grown now, fuck rims (Fuck 'em)
Condo big enough to put a home in (Boy)
Girl that pussy good enough to make the song, yeah (Ooh)
Perky got us fuckin' like we on the slow jam (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
'Member I was fucked up so I hit the road then
Nigga go and get it, you know I don’t hold hands
What’s a grown man?
Know I ain’t going broke like Joc, bitch it’s going down (Down)
Know I’ma need a stick, ma I’m sorry, I can’t cut no rock
Ghost is outside of the mansion, it’s a haunted house (What)
Tell 'em I need a dime or I ain’t coming out (I ain’t coming out)
Know how you met the plug 'cause he ain’t running out (Fuck)
I went inside the club and made a money pile
When money on they head, the gunners run 'em down
Hit 'em up and go head and pull up, I got the money now, yeah
Just let the counter run it, love the money sound
Hand cock that shit in they face Ray, they actin' funny style, yeah
Went through the money counter, let me thumb it now
Yeah, yeah, yeah
She drunk in love and I don’t even drink, wintertime mink
Soul snatchin', man that bitch a thief, she done stole me
If it ain’t money, it don’t move me, that’s the whole thang (That's the whole
thang)
Bitch I’m with the winning circle, we a gold ring (We a)
Gold bottles, gold chains, feel like Master P (Uh)
No limit to this shit so what you saying to me?
(What you saying?)
I seen my favorite rapper, he a fan of me (Fan)
I’m blowing through Miami in an AMG
Yeah I rap, but brody play the keys, make lil mama sing
Niggas lame, they just got some money, you should fuck with me
I want a better life for the fam, niggas wanna beef
Still on the 'Gram, I done hit every one of these (Everyone)
Countin' for everybody, break the lease
Run the streets like dope boys, I got coppers chasing me
Yeah it’s killers and robbers in the function, they with me
I touched down, got it sold, in the morning I’ma leave
See it’s tragic, said they got a hundred on E (A hundred on E)
I was laughing all in traffic, out in Cali, in a sleeve
I was fresh out of my teens with a hundred-fifty piece
Fuck I look like signing for a hundred-fifty G’s?
(The fuck I look like?)
Listening to rappers, wasn’t much I couldn’t believe (Nothing I couldn’t
believe)
I ain’t into rap beef, and it’s an issue, drop the cheese
I’ma hit her til she knock kneed off these RP’s
We at top speed, who pulling over?
Not me (Skrrt, skrrt)
We gon' high speed, opps bleed, get you Swiss cheese’d
Feel like eight bands, pocket full of pre-bag grams
Look like Wheat Thins, black tar, whipped with Mannitol
Make the H tan, niggas broke living in the past, they can’t think ahead
Opps slid through the block and never slide again (And never slide again)
I don’t send shots on Instagram, I shoot at nigga’s friends (Shoot at nigga’s
friends)
Geesky put the city in a twist, he tryna make a dread
I’ma put some titties on that bitch and make an OnlyFans
We at yo' mans and you jumped in and made a package deal, rich before my rapper
deal
Blue bands, this shit like a loose ten, I’m a made man
And I ain’t gotta move another gram, on my mama
Fifty-five hundred, EST Gee
Big boss, pink 10, blue bands, you know wassup
Big G nigga