Lyrics Big Chips - Iamsu!, Show Banga

Big Chips

Big chips, big chips, I’mma turn her up a lil bit
Hot boy, heat her up a lil bit, whoa
Big chips, big chips, you are not real, you exempt
I do what I want lil bitch
I’m the one they call when the need a stamp
I’m the neighborhood mailman
I been puttin' work in
On my neck a serpent (Gucci belt)
I just spent like two bands on some frames (Cartier)
You can never put me out the game (I'm on my way)
Everywhere I go they know my name
Shit was cool until they found out you a lame
They want that real shit
I’m on my independent hustle, fuck a deal shit
I’m not worried 'bout you niggas, not a lil bit
I got my weight up now I’m bout to make the game switch
Plus I’m riding with my same clique
Plot out the entire situation in my brain quick
They don’t speak in dollars then I do not know your language
I been on some gang shit
Every day make a play over grindin' understatement
Big chips, big chips, I’mma turn her up a lil bit
Hot boy, heat her up a lil bit, whoa
Big chips, big chips, you are not real, you exempt
I do what I want lil bitch
Get rich
You don’t need a shovel dig this
Shake a bitch like a hit stick
You don’t go no cash, dismissed
I could be broke on my own time
Plotting million dollar moves in my alone time
Got a roster full of poppin' girls, it’s all fine
Crib full of flat screens like it’s Best Buy
I like G-Star, and Stone Island
Rappers sayin' shit, just to rhyme it
I’m in the Uber gettin' top like Ramen
All the ones who turned against and surprise me, it’s good
«Let em hang bro»
My cousin Freak told me that not too long ago
You remember when they used to underestimate
Every beat I levitate, another check, another day
Let’s get it!
Big chips, big chips, I’mma turn her up a lil bit
Hot boy, heat her up a lil bit, whoa
Big chips, big chips, you are not real, you exempt
I do what I want lil bitch
Young nigga, millionaire state of mind though
Got it out the M-U-D, I had to grind yo
I can see the big chips with a blindfold
You ain’t a pimp, you’s a simp, what you cryin' fo?
Never ever trust a bitch that’s a big no
Remy Martin, takin shots of the XO
Hit your girl on the weekend, like XO
Pockets blue, pockets green like a gecko
Too good in the hood like I’m Metro
Yo girl drop a nigga chips, no Connect 4
I told Suzy that bitch really tryna take off
I’m finna kill these rapper niggas like I’m Adolf
They weight soft, full grizzy fuck a day off
You ain’t never ever working, you get laid off
I’m really Manti like Te’o
Gang tighter than a swimmer with a Speedo
Big chips, big chips, I’mma turn her up a lil bit
Hot boy, heat her up a lil bit, whoa
Big chips, big chips, you are not real, you exempt
I do what I want lil bitch