Lyrics Like This - G Herbo, Lil Uzi Vert

Like This

A 100 Million what I’m tryna get
Anythin' to get this paper, bitch, I’m tryin' it
Ain’t nobody gonna play with me, nigga reach I’m firin' it (Bah)
Know your enemy, go, go lil' nigga, mmm-mmm, I’m dyin' with it (Yeah)
You ain’t got gwop like this
You ain’t got cash like this (Yeah)
You ain’t got gwop like this
Suck my dick, bitch, ashy lips (Yeah)
You ain’t got gwop like this
You ain’t got cash like this (Yeah)
You ain’t got gwop like this (Yeah)
You ain’t got cash like this (Yeah)
Smokin' exotic, I’m high as shit
I’ll die if I don’t keep this bitch on my hip
Hopefully I don’t shoot this bitch off the rip
Ain’t like you rappers with all that lip
Canary my diamonds, they wedges like lemon
Ocean my neck in this shit like Pacific
I like my bitches with fat ass and titties
No, no, no, Lil Uzi, not too specific
Ain’t like you bappers, we real Kobe cappers
You niggas be actors and not even factors
Double the racks and then back in the back seat
That shoot like a raptor, a rapper attacked me
DM that hoe, but she still in my mentions
Bitches be talkin', these hoes they be snitchin'
Niggas be talkin', these niggas be snitchin'
Had a glock on my waist and I had to click quickly
A 100 Million what I’m tryna get
Anythin' to get this paper, bitch, I’m tryin' it
Ain’t nobody gonna play with me, nigga reach I’m firin' it (Bah)
Know your enemy, go, go lil' nigga, mmm-mmm, I’m dyin' with it (Let's go)
You ain’t got gwop like this
You ain’t got cash like this (Yeah)
You ain’t got gwop like this
You ain’t got cash like this (Yeah)
You ain’t got gwop like this (Let's go)
You ain’t got cash like this (Yeah)
You ain’t got gwop like this (Yeah)
You ain’t got cash like this (Uh)
Canary my diamonds, they wedges like lemon
Ocean my neck in this shit like Pacific
I like my bitches with fat ass and titties
No, no, no, Lil Uzi, not too specific
DM that hoe, but she still in my mentions
Bitches be talkin', these hoes they be snitchin'
Niggas be talkin', these niggas be snitchin'
Had a glock on my waist and I had to click quickly
I went to every jeweler in this shit, told all of them better not tax me
And I got two bribs in LA right now, 'cause that’s where the packs be
You don’t know you in the Raq, runnin' shit, you don’t know us
Empty the clip off a hip, pour a four up
On the bullshit on the block like Noah
Give me the beef well done like Boa, bitch
So if a nigga can see when I’m shootin'
I pop out with your bitch, I had to recruit it
Okay, she know I fuck with all her friends
But she don’t say nothin', she scared to lose me
I fuck them lil' bitches right to my music
Pull out my dick then she start flutin'
(Whoa) She said she don’t fuck with niggas
(What?) So she still shoppin' at Gucci (Let's go)
And before rappers wasn’t lying on IG
Actually been here sauce like Zaxby’s (Aye-uh)
Build my wave like Max B, I’m in New York free Max B
I be in New York like a taxi
Riding in the Lambo truck, finna pull a lil' swerve, car seat in the backseat
Your bitch she attracted to money, yeah, that’s why she fuckin' (Yeah)
My niggas attracted to shootin', that’s why they keep bussin' (Whoa)
I’m with the gang for life, you know that I’m stuck in it (Yeah)
You know they gon' up that price, you know they ain’t touchin' shit
Niggas gettin' rich, if it’s smoke we ain’t duckin' it
I’m in Chiraq when I rhyme with a 100 clips
Richard Mill' plain cost a hundred clip
Pushin' a Rolls with the Maybach, my brother whip
Hit that boy first, know he hear me, I’m comin' quick
Fuck all this rappin', we ain’t with this sucka shit
Hundred clip, pull out a window and dump at you
We back in Friendsville comfortable (Let's go)
You ain’t got gwop like this
You ain’t got cash like this (Yeah)
You ain’t got gwop like this, yeah
You ain’t got cash like this (Yeah)
You ain’t got gwop like this (Let's go)
You ain’t got cash like this (Yeah)
You ain’t got gwop like this (Yeah)
You ain’t got cash like this (Yeah)
Bitch, I’m havin' shit, I wear a whip on my wrist
Real killers ridin' with straps
Can respond in rap, I don’t trip on a diss
When we print out the physicals, cop my disc
Chill out, hop off my dick
Yeah, it’s me and Vert, skrrt
Big 40 in Burts, you get mirked, jerk
Brand new Richard Millie, yeah
Hop a stack through this, yeah
Brand new Lambo runnin' through lights
Like I’m at the track in that bitch (Vrrm)
Brand new red Rarri (Uh), ain’t no traction in it (Yeah)