Lyrics Rollie - Shawn Chrystopher, Iceman

Rollie

Yeah
Taking everything from the top
WAV
We in here getting everything they said we couldn’t have
Nigga I’mma grind in any fucking weather
Just to get them Gucci and them Louis leathers
Nigga I’mma grind in any fucking weather
Just to get that Rollie with that fucking bezel
Nigga I’mma grind in any fucking weather
Just to get them Gucci and them Louis leathers
Nigga I’mma grind in any fucking weather
Just to get that Rollie with that fucking bezel
I drink champagne for breakfast
Have champagne for brunch
Take a nap in my office
Then stunt on niggas for lunch
No I do not need much
Just gold bottles, gold models, gold chains
A Ferrari that be switching lanes, and a pinky ring
I’m a pimp by relation
You’s a ho by relationship
Spending all that time chasing that dame
Boy that make me sick
I stack so much bread
That they call me Wonder
Nigga I need a new passport
For all the time spent down under
Yeah, she come like she running late
I eat that bitch up like a dinner date
So much Pinot I ain’t thinking straight
Waiting on me to fall like the summer late
I be balling long distance in other states
Put up numbers like I rock the number eight
And white bitches love me like summer lakes
And my shooter next to me like running mates
I’m flipping numbers like Uno
I’m the realest nigga you know
So Rodger that, nigga 10−4
Pull up with the pipe loud
But you know I got the tint low
Driveway looking like a Benz show
You be in a rental
Still live at home cause your rent low
Nigga I be with the gold grills, and the black hat
With my brim low, learned that from the OG’s
Niggas stay stacking Rollies
Nigga I’mma grind in any fucking weather
Just to get them Gucci and them Louis leathers
Nigga I’mma grind in any fucking weather
Just to get that Rollie with that fucking bezel
Nigga I’mma grind in any fucking weather
Just to get them Gucci and them Louis leathers
Nigga I’mma grind in any fucking weather
Just to get that Rollie with that fucking bezel
Grind to the max
Fuck paying tax
I told my bitch I’ll be back when I’m back
I’m spitting on wax, stacking my racks
Thirty-eight right in my waist when I rap
Don’t trip Jack, I’m Slater no Zach
Got saved by a whole bell of that crack
I’m a quarterback, Kobe with the Mack
But actually I can shoot better than that
Master with P’s, sell it for the G’s
Ain’t no limit if you trying to cop some keys
Rollie by my sleeve, I’mma pimpanese
Malcolm X, complex by any means
Japanese denim on all of my jeans
Every day thing, leave by the CREAM
Wu-Tang complex since I was a teen
Now I’m getting older, weight on my shoulder
Feeling like Atlas trying to hold the world up
When I’m just trying to hold my fam and my girl up
But they ain’t understand my X-files like I was Scully and Mulder
This Kush and a Xan got me really unsober
But I’m too much of a soldier
To let these drugs take over
Had to cop some work, send it OT
Just to get them loafers
Nigga I’mma grind in any fucking weather
Just to get them Gucci and them Louis leathers
Nigga I’mma grind in any fucking weather
Just to get that Rollie with that fucking bezel
Nigga I’mma grind in any fucking weather
Just to get them Gucci and them Louis leathers
Nigga I’mma grind in any fucking weather
Just to get that Rollie with that fucking bezel