| I save my money
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| First class I flew
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| I could’ve bought a jet
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| But I bought a coupe
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| Red carpet with a model bitch
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| You on the red carpet with a prostitute
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| Red target on a fuck nigga head
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| I don’t shoot if somebody’ll do it
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| It’s a dead target dead man
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| Put him in the woods, throw him away and lose it
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| Up in a hot box, heard the cop behind me
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| Gotta get away, and we gotta lose him
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| Bass in the trunk, turn up my music
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| Bass in the trunk, talking 'bout that toolie
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| Hold up, wait, slow it down
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| I just seen twelve, turn around
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| I roll the window down
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| It don’t matter, we been burnin' it down, all day, all day
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| (Woo woo) That’s the sound we heard
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| I ain’t pulling over, took 'em on a high speed chase
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| I ain’t pulling over, no I ain’t pulling over, no I ain’t pulling over
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| My dad’s 100, plus another fuckin' hunnid, ain’t no sense in pulling over
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| Had to swallow my pack, I ain’t put it in my crack when I seen 'em in my rear
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| view
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| Gotta always adapt, it don’t matter where you at, gotta make them niggas feel
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| you
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| ‘Cause I got bread by the motherfuckin' loaf
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| Shorty give head on the motherfuckin' low
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| Shorty she was scared so I kept it on the low
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| I had to get some head from my motherfuckin' folks
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| And she didn’t tell nobody, I stuck it in her motherfuckin' throat
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| That pussy smell like water, mm, mm, good
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| I got money just like Pablo
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| I told my cousin, Gustavo
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| Put a million dollar cash money in my momma coucho
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| Colombian cheese, no Mexican, I ain’t talking 'bout nachos
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| I feel like Pablo ‘cause I do this shit for my muchachos
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| I’m a walking lick, I know these niggas plottin' on me
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| No disrespect but I got these El Chapo’s on me
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| I hope you ready for war
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| Running the road down
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| Shooting at all of these niggas
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| No homo, put him in the birthday suit
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| Take the drawers off that nigga
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| Hold up, wait, he the type of nigga talk to twelve
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| Yeah, and call on me nigga
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| He ain’t even blood to me, he lame to me
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| I got a baby mama, motherfucker suckin' me
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| On the low low, you feel me?
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| Fuck her on the floor beside her children
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| He don’t know even when she trippin'
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| Pablo money, sixty million
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| They don’t like she fuck with a nigga like me, you feel me?
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| Who the fuck put the red dot on me?
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| Now they all on my tail, but guess what?
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| I ain’t pulling over, nigga I ain’t pulling over, nigga I ain’t pulling over
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| I ain’t pulling over, nigga I ain’t pulling over, nigga I ain’t pulling over
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| My dad’s 100, plus another fuckin' hunnid, ain’t no sense in pulling over
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| Gotta always adapt, it don’t matter where you at, gotta make them niggas feel
|
| you
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| I got money just like Pablo
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| I told my cousin, Gustavo
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| Put a million dollar cash money in my momma coucho
|
| Colombian cheese, no Mexican, I ain’t talking 'bout nachos
|
| I feel like Pablo ‘cause I do this shit for my muchachos
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| I’m a walking lick, I know these niggas plottin' on me
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| No disrespect but I got these El Chapo’s on me
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| I hope you ready for war
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| I hope you ready for war |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Pablo , by - Rich Homie Quan. Song from the album ABTA: Still Going In, Vol. 2, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп