Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song WaLkiN' eXhiBiT, artist - Co Cash. Album song Dapper Don - Side A, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 14.11.2019
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Committed, Interscope Records;
Song language: English
WaLkiN' eXhiBiT |
Back on my pivot, God be my witness |
20 racks tucked in my Amiri britches |
Consistently drippin, you might end up slippin |
Show off my ice while wave at the bitches |
Hot as a skillet, cold as a frigid |
Draped in designer, my taste is exquisite |
Make em remember if he forget it |
Gun on my waist and I shoot with precision |
Run up them digits, me and my nigglets |
We trynna see who gone spend it the quickest |
Nigga you trippin, you shop wit a limit |
Ya money too short like a snippet or midget |
Lil mama pretty plus she the thickest |
If this bitch listen might make her the Mrs |
Center of attention, bitch I’m the slickest |
Hoes stop and stare I’m a walking exhibit |
Might pull in a Bentley, this isn’t a civic |
Take off on the cops, they won’t give me a ticket |
She say Im a dog but she giving me kitty |
I keep showing her racks, she keep showing me titties |
She like how I talk, I be speaking explicit |
And my ice shining bright, bitch I really be litty |
You can’t walk how I walk, I be kickin my pimpin |
You can’t buy what I bought, cause you low on expenses |
Jimmy Choo drip-drip |
Niggas ain’t hip-hip |
Bitch it cost a grip-grip |
Gave da clerk a tip-tip |
Point me to da vip-vip |
Baby show me nip slips |
Fuck her then i dip-dip |
Too much on my chip-chip |
Pass her to the gang gang |
Fifty on my chain mane |
Still sending change to my niggas in the chain gang |
We don’t ball the same, man these niggas really lame mane |
Spending out ya range, so just stay up in ya lane-lane |
Rockin Helmut Lang like a nigga playing football |
Tell the truth, I can tell I got these niggas shook dog |
Nigga acting tough but he really justa mush ball |
Thousand dollar shoes, that’s half a band a foot dog |
I might spend it on a fit |
You gone give it to the bitch |
And I pop the biggest shit |
Cause I’m really living rich |
But it’s still a whole lotta paper that I gotta get |
Still got a whole ‘nother ball that I gotta pitch |
Dressed in high fashion, cartier glasses |
Took a lil break, now I’m back on they asses |
We hop in foreigns and we do dashes |
Elegant, so bitches calling me Cashius |
Back on my pivot, God be my witness |
20 racks tucked in my Amiri britches |
Consistently drippin, you might end up slippin |
Show off my ice while wave at the bitches |
Hot as a skillet, cold as a frigid |
Draped in designer, my taste is exquisite |
Make em remember if he forget it |
Gun on my waist and I shoot with precision |
Run up them digits, me and my nigglets |
We trynna see who gone spend it the quickest |
Nigga you trippin, you shop wit a limit |
Ya money too short like a snippet or midget |
Lil mama pretty plus she the thickest |
If this bitch listen might make her the Mrs |
Center of attention, bitch I’m the slickest |
Hoes stop and stare I’m a walking exhibi |
My style isn’t basic, you can’t replicate it |
This authentic fabric, yo shit fabricated |
These niggas can’t see me, go tell em get lasic |
They falling behind cause they way too complacent |
I know they want my shine but I won’t let em take it |
Bitch I wanted some cake so I had to go bake it |
And I don’t wanna talk if it ain’t bout a payment |
I spent five hundred dollars on expensive fragrance |
He been balling too hard, someone give him a flagrant |
But I don’t play no sport, cartier like a dork |
I been fucking shit up in like too many places |
Spent a bag in LA, spent a bag in New York |
Knock me a bitch, I take off with ya whore |
Way too much drip, leave a sign on the floor |
Got way too many racks but I want me some more |
My whole crib is covered in brand new decor |
I can’t trip off a hoe, I got bitches galore |
Once I fuck, cut her off, don’t want her anymore |
You might put on some shit that I already wore |
Freshest one in this bitch when I walk through the door |
Back on my pivot, God be my witness |
20 racks tucked in my Amiri britches |
Consistently drippin, you might end up slippin |
Show off my ice while wave at the bitches |
Hot as a skillet, cold as a frigid |
Draped in designer, my taste is exquisite |
Make em remember if he forget it |
Gun on my waist and I shoot with precision (Brrr) |
Let the band play |