| I’m in a two seater, in the carpool
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| Gold runners on, and they are new
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| And gettin' money, what we up to
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| You ain’t with us, then it’s fuck you
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| Play chess in the streets, make your move
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| My house in LA look like Cancun
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| These hoes be takin' selfies in my bathroom
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| Fo’nem watch the spot from the cameras
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| We servin' that come back, front one more
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| The judge cannot stop me from countin' honchos
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| You gotta re-up when you run low
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| I’ma run it up and I’ma run for more
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| These bitch see the steez when I bop out the car
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| Met the bitch today but I’ll get top by tomorrow
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| You don’t get it like the gang, no not like the squad
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| I’m on planet Earth, I’m finna shoot back to Mars
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| On Mars with a scope, finna shoot at the stars
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| High as fuck, seein' Saturn have a shootout with Mars
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| Your thot say she see me in two different cars
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| I just hit Neiman’s in a few different malls
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| Back to the wall, feet on the floor
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| Pedal to the metal, whole bunch of gold
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| Buy a lot of clothes, achieve a lot of goals
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| Friends turn foe but I’m wavy like a float
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| Syrup got me like a snail
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| On the yacht, finna set sail
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| Smokin' dope, finna inhale then exhale
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| All this loud in my fuckin' lungs, man, I can’t yell
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| I can’t even pronounce my foreign ass bail
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| Bitch I’m smoking on dope, bitch, I eat boss-anova
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| Bitch my pockets are boulders, we don’t ride in no Rovers
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| Bitch we ride I8s, bitch I’m high, outer space
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| Ride foreigns, no plates, OG Kush, you can taste
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| I smoke a zip every day, pour the 8 to the face
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| Bitch we game paper chase, bitch you food, can’t relate
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| Might do a show in Japan, rockin' outfits from France
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| Catch that pack when it land, watch me go count them bands
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| At the stoplight, two-seater, me and Yo
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| Me and Sosa fucked up, nah, that ain’t no
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| Hit the club, bitches bustin' everywhere, yo-yo
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| Do my thing, flee the scene, I’ma leave with po-po
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| Snow bunny with me sniffin' Coca Cola co-co
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| I used to be solo
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| I steady send shots, miss and that’s a low blow
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| String on the TEC like the string on a yo-yo
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| Run and I’ma blow though
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| Coolin' at the spot by the ocean
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| Pickin' up a bitch off of Ocean Drive
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| Pulled up to Wells Fargo
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| Run out that bitch with the sack, hop in the car like bitch drive
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| I can try to walk a straight line but I’m really high
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| And I could’ve took a Greyhound but I’m really fly
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| Oh yeah I’m fuckin' bitches, baby, I’m not in denial
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| And the jury tryna steal me but I’m takin' it to trial |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Flees, artist - Zaytoven. Album song Zaytoven Presents: Trapping Made It Happen, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп