Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Walk Through, artist - Retch. Album song After the Verdict, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 05.07.2018
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Fastmoney
Song language: English
Walk Through |
| Ha, yeah, hey, yeah, haha |
| Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah |
| Like, ha, bags, the motherfucking bag, you heard? |
| Yo, yeah, uh |
| Used to do walk ups, now they try and pay us for a walk through |
| Ain’t beefin' with no rappers 'cause my niggas they’ll chalk you |
| And thats the type of drama I ain’t needin' |
| Between Akademiks and twitter, I don’t make it to the weekend |
| Fuck, his niggas bomin' like they CBS, I was in the trenches slangin' cedar, yes |
| Cutting up the heroin with Dilaudid just so we can stretch |
| Take a hundred thousand off the movies, let 'em keep the rest |
| Turn crack cocaine into the VVS, talkin' that fly shit |
| S 600, eatin' Hibachi with chopsticks, Givenchy’d down gettin' top in the |
| cockpit |
| Y’all don’t fuckin' hear me though |
| I’m on a yacht, pourin' Tech up in the flute like it’s Chardonnay |
| Lobster tail and scallops out in Mandalay |
| Dolce and Gabana drippin' on me when the camera blink |
| No service where we at, so you can’t hear a thing |
| No lifeguard on duty, peep the fucking beauty |
| I fucked the bitch, lil Uzi slappin' on the booty |
| Balenciaga boxers 250 for a package of 3 |
| Week in the streets keepin' it G, I keep the average in Jeep |
| They talkin' trap, but ain’t a fiend that could vouch for 'em |
| Come to me, had fiends trappin' out they house for him |
| Auntie cool, but don’t be tellin' they ain’t stashin' nothing |
| Always gotta hand out, tryna grab something |
| Know I keep a shooter that’ll stab something |
| And a dyke when hoes acting brazy, that’ll rag something |
| Still shoutin' out my self on my last run in |
| Nigga, word to mommy, if a pussy try me |
| We gon' do him in the lobby, send him where Allah be |
| Talk cocky, walk properly, know that God got me |
| Snitch niggas, sent the peoples tryna Fox 5 me |
| I’m somewhere that you can’t find me with like 5 thotties |
| Them IG bitches with a million likes right by me |
| I’m on the phone, talkin' money on the vac sealer |
| And niggas still callin' back 'cause the pack killer |
| Little disclaimer, we don’t ever argue, eat a dick, hater |
| Can’t talk baller to a spectator |
| Still jumpin' out the Mazi rockin' Margiela |
| Thousand dollar jeans on, and I just walk better |
| Rocking Off-White in the off weather |
| They ain’t fuckin' with the boy, never (nah) |
| They ain’t fuckin' with the boy, never |
| Like, 6−0, ha, Fastmoney shit |