Mandarin
Rich Homie Quan, Yo Gotti, DJ Drama
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(June, you're a genius) Frrt (I Showed You So) (Dj Drama) Chopstick, Benihana Main a ten, been a hundred Psd, lot of trauma Angel wings, sad mamas Chopstick, Taliban, woo Chinese plug, Mandarin Lie to me once, nigga, you lost trust, you had a chance In the hood, we don't call 'em AKs, boy, we call 'em chopsticks In the hood, we don't call 'em AKs, boy, we call 'em chopsticks In the hood, we don't call 'em AKs, boy, we call 'em chopsticks In the hood, we don't call 'em AKs, boy, we call 'em chopsticks Rose Patek, leather band 'Member my first thousand grams They was taxin' twenty-four, now I'm payin' Uncle Sam Street nigga, different bracket Twenty mill' paid in taxes Tryna get a B, f*ck a hundred mill', so I can't be relaxin' Malibu, Nobu, chauffer, but them chopsticks on me Soho been me, CEO, but that street shit in me Break it down, bag it up Money counter, add it up Twenty year run, but I ain't had enough Them pussy niggas still mad at us Yeah, and we don't call 'em AKs, they chopsticks Home of the triple cross, we call that a plot twist This rap shit saved me Weed plug Asian Gotti, you ridin' in a Cullinan with a Drac', boy, you crazy Chopstick, Benihana Main a ten, been a hundred Psd, lot of trauma Angel wings, sad mamas Chopstick, Taliban, woo Chinese plug, Mandarin Lie to me once, nigga, you lost trust, you had a chance In the hood, we don't call 'em AKs, boy, we call 'em chopsticks In the hood, we don't call 'em AKs, boy, we call 'em chopsticks In the hood, we don't call 'em AKs, boy, we call 'em chopsticks In the hood, we don't call 'em AKs, boy, we call 'em chopsticks Eighty-three thousand for the new teeth got a nigga smiling Check the bitch car fast 'cause a lot of hoes got mileage The DEA must've brought a skillet 'cause the judge want to fry me I put that shit on every day, so RIP my stylist Mama said that money startin' to odor, boy, it's smellin' (ayy) And I know I'm walkin' proof you can't make money as a felon (nah) They selfish Niggas I looked up to, now they jealous (what?) Chopstick hit your spine and your pelvis (oh, fah, fah, fah) High school, I was poppin', I would never walk to school Got the chopstick in my bookbag, I ain't talkin' 'bout no food Paper in my bookbag too, I'm lookin' for space (Rich Homie) I'm at that restaurant in Buckhead where they cook it in your face Chopstick, Benihana Main a ten, been a hundred Psd, lot of trauma Angel wings, sad mamas Chopstick, Taliban, woo Chinese plug, Mandarin Lie to me once, nigga, you lost trust, you had a chance In the hood, we don't call 'em AKs, boy, we call 'em chopsticks In the hood, we don't call 'em AKs, boy, we call 'em chopsticks In the hood, we don't call 'em AKs, boy, we call 'em chopsticks In the hood, we don't call 'em AKs, boy, we call 'em chopsticks (Gangsta Grizzilz) Chopsticks (In the hood, they call me Chef Boyardram) Chopsticks (You niggas lookin' a lil' sweet and sour over there) (Chopsticks) (Don't get mad)
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Written by: Bokyu Kim, Mario Mims, Darryon Bunton, Dequantes Lamar, June James
Lyrics © INGROOVES MUSIC PUBLISHING LLC
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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"Mandarin Lyrics." Lyrics.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 29 Apr. 2024. <https://www.lyrics.com/lyric-lf/12413078/Yo+Gotti/Mandarin>.
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