Lyrics
S63, AMG
Pretty bitches, pay a fee, broke not the thing to be
A few really play the streets, cats tell them fairy tales
Brown paper bags full of hundreds, haters pray I fail
Baby on my phone, she talkin' money, and she ready
Shit I made a hundred thousand already
Used to blow pelly, used to move truckloads of the reggie
Now we toast when we close deals over ten milli
My bags speak for me, I don’t talk much
456 with the bag, get it off uhh
Coffee colored leather, yeah my smoke’s much better
Tell a broke boy choke, you don’t checks no cheddar
Your bitch wanna ride, chose my letter
Toast, keep the wetter, Joe Blow, might sweat her
Ralph Lauren or I rock my own sweater
Oh you fresh? But you soft as a feather, pussy
Bag full of cash, new hundreds so crispy
Hand count 8 stacks, snowman, got me dizzy
White light, blue cookie so pissy
Fishtailin' out the lot, drunk drivin' got me dizzy
She can suck me off but not kiss me
I’m the man in my city, pray every bullet miss me
I’ma make a hundred mil' like 50
Smokin' kill, on the wheel, yeah these pills got me dizzy
Yeah I’m doin' 160
How the fuck I’ma spend all this money 'fore they kill me?
18 karat gold, I think it compliments my skin
I’m a shark in the water, come and swim
Hundred grand on the Benz
Hundred grand on my hand
Hit the store, all I buy is rubber bands, I’m the man
Cop heavy, your plug’s not ready
Porsche Cayenne, gold watch frezzi
Smoke with the best, I’m Wiz, Spitta Andretti
Ain’t shit you can tell me, yeah these dudes blow reggie
My whole crew’s on power
One hour, move 300 sour