Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song The Finer Things , by - Ramirez. Release date: 17.06.2021
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
The Finer Things |
| They be like, «Who that? |
| Who that?» |
| It’s the motherfucker with the strap |
| Lay 'em down one by one if these suckers don’t pay the tax (Brra) |
| I can never fuck with a broke bitch unless they bring the scratch |
| Hoppin' out the '64, golden D’s and the Kangol hat |
| There ain’t no politickin' so don’t you come my way |
| Ain’t no dealin' with bitches who can’t even hold their own weight |
| I’m like a lion in the jungle, better yet a gorilla |
| My mind is twisted from all the bullshit that I done witnessed |
| I never step foot out the crib without my nine-millimeter |
| A dosage of paranoia 'cause partner, these streets will eat ya |
| I done seen too many players fall victim up to the game |
| Some forget that this is chess and not checkers so plot your way |
| I used to dream 'bout the finer things |
| Takin' my mama out the hood, whippin' wooden grains |
| But now I’m whippin' on a new one every single day |
| Pourin' the Ace of Spades, swimmin' in champagne, couple pinky rings |
| I used to dream 'bout the finer things |
| Takin' my mama out the hood, whippin' wooden grains |
| But now I’m whippin' on a new one every single day |
| Pourin' the Ace of Spades, swimmin' in champagne, couple pinky rings |
| I’m on the move, sucker niggas thinkin' we cool |
| I’m gettin' money from Killa Cali to Baton Rouge |
| Y’all can’t even get on my level, you niggas minuscule |
| Hangin' on my nutsack, cousin, you really pitiful |
| I’m in the six trey, contemplatin' a payday |
| Puffin' the ghetty green, put a bitch on like I’m Ray J |
| You see this pimpin' but deep inside of my veins |
| Cold-blooded young bitch breaker, keep a distance from these lames, uh |
| I used to dream 'bout the finer things |
| Takin' my mama out the hood, whippin' wooden grains |
| But now I’m whippin' on a new one every single day |
| Pourin' the Ace of Spades, swimmin' in champagne, couple pinky rings |
| I used to dream 'bout the finer things |
| Takin' my mama out the hood, whippin' wooden grains |
| But now I’m whippin' on a new one every single day |
| Pourin' the Ace of Spades, swimmin' in champagne, couple pinky rings |