| Woah, huh, run up them racks
|
| Can’t fumble the set, no, huh
|
| I got to get it, I’m running them digits
|
| Lil' bitches can play with that check, no
|
| I pull up, no simpin, like deal with the business
|
| Gucci my tennis, I thumb through them Benjis
|
| Lil' bitch I get bread — admit it — woah
|
| Louie belt holdin' my ratchets
|
| Pleasant, she checkin' my business, yeah, yeah
|
| Playin' ‘em round like a dentist
|
| Don’t get around until I’m finished, yeah, yeah
|
| We used to trap in them cities
|
| Servin' ‘em g’s and I’m spendin'
|
| Now we pull up in them Benzes
|
| Foreigns and shit, it’s expensive
|
| See RetcH done did it, whoa
|
| Made a plate down a metal bar
|
| For a half of John, nigga can it duck
|
| Foreign thotty yeah she bad as fuck
|
| I won’t fuck her ‘cause she bad as fuck
|
| Burnin' pussy I can pass it, done
|
| Purple drink why I can’t pass it up
|
| I got back to expeditions, with no expectations
|
| In the situations, yeah
|
| I would like some fornication, how that be for conversation
|
| I can’t fuck her cause she basic, I might fuck her make her famous
|
| I be stylin' in the latest
|
| Louie, Fendi, Ferragamo
|
| Diamond give her
|
| On point wherever I go
|
| Shooter with me — he gonna follow, yeah, yeah
|
| If you don’t play with that heat
|
| Don’t get no play in these streets, yeah, yeah
|
| We don’t do with the feet
|
| Nigga we playin' for keeps, gang, gang
|
| I had to turn to a beast
|
| Locked in the «stu» for some weeks
|
| right in my reach
|
| Bitch, you was all on my phone
|
| But I’m on a roll like its beef, no, whoa, whoa, ha
|
| Woah, huh, run up them racks
|
| Can’t fumble the set, no, huh
|
| I got to get it, I’m running them digits
|
| Lil' bitches can play with that check, no
|
| I pull up, no simpin, like deal with the business
|
| Gucci my tennis, I thumb through them Benjis
|
| Lil' bitch I get bread — admit it — woah
|
| Young nigga play with them racks
|
| I got them racks it’s a fact, yeah, yeah
|
| I got some
|
| Some lil' thots in the back, yeah yeah
|
| If you run off with that pack
|
| Just know you cannot come back, yeah, yeah
|
| I’m sippin' red in the back
|
| My lil' bitch, she a brat, whoa, whoa
|
| How he got dough for that liberty bitch
|
| Man I swear I won’t fuck her again
|
| I told her come over, she told me
|
| «She just wanna watch while I fuck on a friend»
|
| I fucked up and poured up this drink
|
| And bouncin', I swear it won’t end
|
| Can’t be no baller If you don’t do right for your family
|
| Swear she so better than this time I fuck her
|
| I’m gonna fuck her and never again
|
| I fly across the world, them people they see me
|
| They love me, they takin' my pic
|
| These bitches is open, they just like a magazine
|
| Browsing and takin my pick
|
| I told them we all could be ballin' in millions
|
| If nigga just stick to the script, huh
|
| Woah, huh, run up them racks
|
| Can’t fumble the set, no, huh
|
| I got to get it, I’m running them digits
|
| Lil' bitches can play with that check, no
|
| I pull up, no simpin, like deal with the business
|
| Gucci my tennis, I thumb through them Benjis
|
| Lil' bitch I get bread — admit it — woah |