Lyrics Brand New - Tyga, YG, Lil Wayne

Brand New

Yeah, uh-huh\nCome on, yep\nMmmhmm, bells\nYeah, hmhmhmm\nLet’s go\nRiding 'round the city\nWith some brand new heat\nBrand new car\nBrand new feet\nBrand new seats\nBrand new smell\nPut out the roach\nLight a brand new L\nFuck you bitch\nI’m actin' brand new\nFuck you bitch\nMy shirt brand new\nFuck you bitch\nMy shoes brand new\nFuck you bitch\nI’m actin' brand new\nYeah\nI’m cold like a midnight\nIn Aspen\nI am the President\nAnd the assassin\nCameras on\nBig lights, «Action»\nWelcome to the show\nI am the main attraction\nMoney in the mattress\nMoney in the attic\nMoney on my mind\nMoney is my habit\nStay on the grind\nUntil money’s automatic\nBitch, I love money\nI’m a fucking fanatic\nAlways strapped, gripped-tight, graspin'\nSay what? Who, me? (Click-clack) Blast 'em\nChrome 24's, tires thin like napkins\nGot to ride big 'cause I am like a captain\nYou know I’m a boss; chillin', relaxin'\nProbably in my office, doing my taxes\nYou little niggas so not in my bracket\nAnd I don’t even have time to practice\nRiding 'round the city\nWith some brand new heat\nBrand new car\nBrand new feet\nBrand new seats\nBrand new smell\nPut out the roach\nLight a brand new L\nFuck you bitch\nI’m actin' brand new (brand new)\nFuck you bitch\nMy shirt brand new (brand new)\nFuck you bitch\nMy shoes brand new (them too)\nFuck you bitch\nI’m actin' brand new (yeah)\nIce\nRidiculous price\nYour camera has never saw a picture this nice\nHm, I’m fishin', and the bitches will bite\nIt’s probably 'cause my game is Fixodent tight\nRight\nI’m fucking every bad bitch twice\nAnd if she doesn’t wear panties then I fuck her on sight\nI’m nasty like spice\nI know what she likes\nI can make a black woman\nScream like she white\nI can make a white woman\nScream like Mike\nBut before she starts singin'\nShe got to check my mic\nNiggas just hatin'\nAnd I done lost sight\nIt’s like I don’t see 'em\nI only see the light\nTalking that shit\nBut you boys just hype\nI hope you bring a gun to the fight\nLouis V tennis shoes\nBig brown stripe\nYou think you fresh?\nShit, nigga — I’m ripe\nRiding 'round the city\nWith some brand new heat\nBrand new car\nBrand new feet\nBrand new seats\nBrand new smell\nPut out the roach\nLight a brand new L\nFuck you bitch\nI’m actin' brand new (brand new)\nFuck you bitch\nMy shirt brand new (brand new)\nFuck you bitch\nMy shoes brand new (them too)\nFuck you bitch\nI’m actin' brand new (yeah)\nOK\nBrand new coupe\nDriving crazy than a mother\nSittin' low in the seats\nWith the burner sittin' under\nGot my tank top, top down\nIt probably ain’t summer\nBut I ride like that 'cause I’m hotter than the others\nDamn, there’s no keeping up with the brother man\nI could spell my name in burnt rubber\nI’m gone! Leave me alone\nNow the dog is at supper\nYou could wash my plate and put it back in the cupboard\nAhem, I’m so far ahead of them suckers\nI’mma have to start rappin' in numbers\nI promise, the flows don’t stop\nThey come rapid like thunder\nI bet you hide under your covers\nRiding 'round the city\nWith some brand new heat\nBrand new car\nBrand new feet\nBrand new seats\nBrand new smell\nPut out the roach\nLight a brand new L\nFuck you bitch\nI’m actin' brand new (brand new)\nFuck you bitch\nMy shirt brand new (brand new)\nFuck you bitch\nMy shoes brand new (them too)\nFuck you bitch\nI’m actin' brand new (yeah)