| (Let the band play)
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| Yeah
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| All I need is one scale, a couple bales, came in this shit by myself
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| Dolph, why you fuck his girl? |
| Uh, shit, 'cause I'm a player
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| Quarterback, no NFL (Ayy), drippy in Chanel (Drippy)
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| Playin' hide and go seek in the mansion with my lil' girl (Aria)
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| Elevator was too crowded, so I took the stairs (Woo)
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| The whole industry was hatin', so now I give 'em hell (Ha)
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| Business man, I invest a whole million in the mail (Yeah)
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| Yeah (Yeah), yeah (Yeah), yeah (Yeah), yeah
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| I-I-I treat bitches like some shoes, I cop 'em by the pairs (It's Dolph)
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| She like when I grab her neck and pull her by her hair (It's Dolph)
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| In my city, I'm more important than the fuckin' mayor (It's Dolph)
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| Ten years straight, I set the prices on the kush, I swear (It's Dolph)
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| I got your bitch lookin' for Flippa (Where he at?)
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| I let her ride like a bicycle (Ah)
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| I pulled out and bust on her dimples (Ah)
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| Quarter milli' for this Richard (Mille)
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| I had to run up them digits (Run it up)
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| Niggas know that I'm the sickest (For real)
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| Bitches know that I'm the littest
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| Whip my dick out and piss on your feelings (For real)
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| I heard that lil' nigga from Memphis (Okay)
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| I heard he used to trap in Fendi (Okay)
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| I heard he went to jail in a Bentley (Okay)
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| Straps with me in New York City (Uh)
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| Lil' black nigga with all this fuckin' paper on me, man
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| What the fuck they mean, man?
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| I can't go out like that (Uh), huh, hold up
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| Bangin' L's, swangin' scales (What?)
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| Shakin', got residue in my nails (What?)
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| Started gettin' real money, we bustin' bales
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| Everybody on the floor know the smell, uh
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| Dropped out of high school
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| Had to start bringin' my Glock, couldn't show and tell, uh (Pussy)
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| Big bro got life in the feds
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| Can't talk on the phone, but he know his will
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| Walked out the trap with a big ol' bag
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| 'Til I pop in the house, I was on the sale (Swerve)
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| We was sinnin' on Sunday, that bitch in my hand
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| But I'm sinnin' in my head, know I'm gon' prevail, uh
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| If I call her house phone, tell her bring that bitch out cocked, then my mama will (Come on)
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| I was eighteen, my OG seen me hop out the Benz or a Bonneville (Bah)
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| I bought a mansion, pop in that bitch fresh off a shootout, I'm hot as hell
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| Shh, you gon' do some time, niggas probably tell
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| Fuck it, this lifestyle, know I probably will
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| I'm in New York with my nigga Dolph, he rockin' wop, but his neck on Gabbana still (Uh)
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| I'm rockin' Christian Dior with a bag full of blues, all black but it's Prada still (Swerve)
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| I'm in the 'Raq, Benihana, don't eat at Hamada
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| See opp, he get probably killed (Swerve)
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| Told lil' bro come out with me in Bally
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| Get out the 'Raq, he might come near, catch a body still (Shh)
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| I'll pull up on your home in a Lam' smokin' out a sack
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| Arch her back, disappear, artifact (Skrrt)
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| I ain't comin' with shit but my pipe and a box of mags
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| Twenty on me, that's my starter pack
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| Gettin' too much money, we ain't tryna make arch-rivals
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| You know we spark ride (Bah)
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| I was outside and that's the reason we won battles
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| Nigga, we weren't part-time
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| Got a youngin, he only send straight at you (Seen 'em)
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| You ain't never heard that snake rap? |
| (Go get 'em)
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| On a nigga head, then we just can't catch you
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| Spin twice, mad as fuck, we went straight past you
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| Ever tried to kill a nigga just 'cause you had to?
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| Leanin' up in the clubhouse like Rascal (Huh?)
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| Everybody rich as fuck, ain't nothin' past due
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| I could go grab a M from my mama pad too
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| Let me see what you gon' do, we could team-tag two
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| Oh, you ain't with the shit, have somebody blast you
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| Kel-Tec on my lap, if God bless you, I tag you
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| Have you fillin' the bag with your fast food (Pussy) |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song 1 Scale, artist - Young Dolph. Album song Rich Slave, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп