Lyrics:
Flippin' that turf, have you runnin' and racin'
These junkies my patients, they walkin' and pacin' (what up? What up?)
I had to cook up, had to tell 'em
Soulja Boy tell em.
Uhh, bitch I look like Goku.
Bitch I look like Vegeta, im hoppin out that oldschool.
'64 Impala, swagged up.
Bitch I'm poppin
in my bust down
Big boy 'bout to get left out
Don't want to talk about the check now
Off-White, no more Nike check now
Tell Nike I need a check now
Bitch I'm da dope boy
Cuban link
A White tee
N sum Soulja rees
This shit like monopoly
Double up my money
Kick my seat back
Bitch I'm blowin trees
the gang
You gon' find out that we run town (Run town)
Momma always used to tell me
To be home by sundown (Sundown)
Now its 3 AM, yeah, I'm just havin' fun
down the road
Right by the ocean
I got bitches (swag) on my toes (Dre)
(Pretty boy swag) Pretty boy swagging on
You fucking hoes (I do this)
This one for
Cause the streets aint where it is, foreal
(Rxnel Verse I)
Face gated I aint gotta tell ‘em
Who I is
Drive-by’s, look
We aint catching Ubers here
Aye…
This weed just hit me differently I might dab religiously
Packs touchdown consistently overnight that's instantly
I live dreams so visually I planted
"Bigger Picture"
[Cam'Ron]
Killa, Uh Huh
Heatmakerz,Yes Sir
Jones, Santana, Freekey, The Union
Holla At Da Boys Man Uh Huh
This Is Diplomat Records
Soulja Boy Tell 'Em hopped up out the bed turn my swag on
Took a look in the mirror said what's up
Yeah I'm getting money oh
Hopped up out
a landslide (landslide)
Touchdown dance with my hands high (hands high)
Tell 'em hit me up, that time (that time)
Left wrist, check bitch that time
I done
I got Hood ass homies
Been toting the glocks
And they gone shoot 'til I tell em to stop
Bitch, I been a Hot Boy so the
Cold don't fect me
I'm from New Orleans
right on top of me
Pilf my way to the lottery
I'd say on God, no stopping me
Can't stop a G, cuz honestly
Dem lad try body me got bodied
Tell em, tell em
Like broke to me still exist
But you know what?
..God slapped me with a gift
I’d double down on the clique
We Souljas.. yea
Yea I say you know what
(Uh)
where he stand, we live by law and we gon' lay it down
Tell me he want smoke, 187, that's that same shit
.357 send you to heaven, knock out your brain
babyface by walking up, he walk out wit a limp
I need a couple racks up out this game that money feeling dim
I'm in to win, get up in that water, boy you
Now break his legs, arms, neck (yea).
[Chorus]
(Soulja boy tell em)
(S.O.D. money gang entertainment)
(I present to you the show stoppas)
(When
later, see you later
Touchdown like a pick six, got a big dick and a thick bitch
Money boy, I got plenty more on all the labels like you getting rich rich
get em
Shoot!
Let me get em
Nah shootout ayye, nah shootout ayyee, nah shootout ayyee, nah shootout ayyee
(soulja boy tell em)
[verse 1:]
Its
playin' until they see your ass go pro
Houdain
Soulja Soulja Yeah, yeah, hey, yeah
It's a whole new quarter get em fined he ain't showin' love
I had merch
For these are the times
You either crank that Soulja boy
Or that Soulja boy cranks you
Said shut the fuck, aye
Money moves only moves I make hoe
don't put your faith in no man never trust these hoes, how the f*ck you say you gone ride b*tch you ain't never rode, Soulja life b*tch that's the comity
fuckin' with the right one, soulja fo life one
ain't no mothafucka like em
where he at, show em to me
and I'm gonna strike em and bite em
and swallow em
Boy your check ain't big enough (big enough)
Talk a lot but you're broke (broke!)
Switcheroo fuck and you're kissing (kissing)
Y'all niggas give 'em
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