Lyrics Sessions - Suspect, CHIP, Flyo

Sessions

Yeah
Yeah
Flyo
I’m having to put the light back on
Uh
I can get rich off music now
Don’t need no fiends
But none of these Ps are clean
Inside my Moschino jeans
I’ve got black, got white, got Asian
Even Latino beans
Big handgun, self-reloading
You ain’t even seen machines
Said the buj has got the fiends addicted
Done more hooks than Quavo
I’ve got work on the streets
And I’ve got hooks on the radio
I just want money and girls
I just want skengs and pesos
Pull up on smoke with weebs
Man’s tryna run, what way, though?
Slide on 'em
Fly, load up the beats, man glide on 'em
Get a drop and we lie on 'em
Put wings on the packs, man’s flying 'em, traffic
Pattern up
You ain’t got a pitch or a batter up
We need the win, no matter what
They don’t want this as bad as us
Bad as Michael with the red jacket
Moonwalking with a Z packet
Billie Jean, I was really lean
With the big machine, it gets active
Can’t keep phones
Cuh the feds track it
We just tryna climb
To the next bracket
Uh, I’m like I could get rich off these bricks
But I don’t really need the scene
I don’t even need your comments
Preeing weebs
Pussy just clocked my shine
And long time I had this gleam
Long time I had this shit locked
I’m like «what do you mean?»
Since like the age of fifteen
The gyal have been calling me reem
I 'member when I used to be ugly
Now come like a man of prestige
Either the looks or the money
Do I look like I give a shit, please?
I’m like now I just pick a man’s wife
Like 'oi, babe, you’re coming with me'
Coming with the team
She’s got a bag of friends and they’re coming with the Gs
I said I felt a way, she’s got nothing underneath
They love me from I popped right out the scene
I said I want the top spot
I want nothing inbetween
Welcome to the chop shop
A nigga cutting from your spleen
Supervillain like Doc Oc
And niggas pattern when they see me
Well, I’ll get a nigga’s top dropped
Don’t be fucking round with weebs
Way before this rap
Niggas were shooting up the scene
How you know so many shottas
And you never sold a brick in your life?
How you know so many gyal
But you still can’t find you a wife?
How you smoke all that weed
But remember all of them rhymes?
True, I came through with the ring
Touch mic, let me fist do shine
Niggas linked up to block the path
Better luck next time
Say the wrong ting tonight
By morning, bluku bye bye
Always get called for verses
Man know what I send back gon' be certi
I got half a box but it’s not to shot
I get high as fuck, that’s my percy
Penthouse view
When I’m down by the river
Dressing gown on
Milly rocking in my slippers
Household name
Tryna get a little bigger
I see you pulling out your phone
What you doing, little nigga?
Dem man snap too much
Dem man chat too much
Ayy, Chip, you run your mouth too much
Didn’t wanna do it but I had to, bruv
I hate getting stressed, love getting head
Pop your collar at me, I’ll be at your neck
Still spitting gems, in the trap, invest
We just living life, Chippy, Sus and Tef