Lyrics:
(Bitch)
Sippin' on bottles, flyin' high on planes
Gotta lotta bad women, I don't even know their names
Toppers and tats, you know I got flame
When I pull
through the swamp, nigga, follow me through the foxholes
Moral Orenthal with a pretty bitch in a Bronco
Hopped right off the seven and stumbled into some
(fuck it)
I be in Street Port wit my nigga Bayday ??
I be in airports wit my fuckin' AK (shut up!)
4-7 to 11, 1-8-7 on a cop
I know you prayin' that I
out
His gut like a Caesarean i’m scared for him
16 in the clip, we lettin’ eight go
You get half
Then your bitch take half: Jeff Bezos
Do the Math
Fuck
Five, Sux jus might bust ya shit
Seven, Eight we taking all ya plates, eating good til our paper straight
That's a fact cause round Nine & Ten, ball hard
Regulation number 7, don't take yo' business to where you livin'
Regulation number 8, keep yo' heat but fly straight
(The rules and regulations)
[Chorus]
Santa came up missing
Aye I know a couple dope fiends
That'll hold him for Ransom
For a 8ball of crack
And IPhone for they grandson
Cause shit where I'm
transferred from on
Party to the next" You got
A miserable bitch on a
Blog who writes something negative about
You, you read it, and now you're miserable
middle school and shit
And I was like,""Oh my god, the Aqua 8's!""
Y'all was roasting me the whole damn summer
Y'all was roasting me for like three years
school
any beat I shed light to with crazy wattage
Blankin' out bought my first eight ball for eighty dollars
learned who not to trust grew obnoxious
so
Hop in my new whip call it metal sonic
Had to stop by the union make a deposit,
She stay call me lil vert, I said baby stop it
If it's fly niggas
gotta level up around this bitch (turn me up eight)
Level up, yeah, that's what I gotta do
Fuck a seven-up, bitch I'm to the top give me a Mountain Dew
to T.M.F., Wu-Tang Clan
Scream on it, Ghost
Ayo, we at the weedgate, waiting for Jake
We want eight ravioli bags, two thirsty villains yelling bellyaches
to T.M.F., Wu-Tang Clan
Scream on it, Ghost
Ayo, we at the weedgate, waiting for Jake
We want eight ravioli bags, two thirsty villains yelling bellyaches
inch wheels is what I roll
And when I pass yo bitch all outta control
[Baby]
Buyin' Lexus Land Cruisers
The 4-7 the big pipe user
Hoe abuser
[Manny
ride by my house
Late at night
Bitch you could neva be me
I smash shit on site
I get rich off you broads and the shit that you do
Ya texting his phone
thangs around O, 16 of em got the whole pound
come short with like 8 dog em like 8 ball imma lay it down
MJ feeling like I'm 23
ten fingers I got 6 rings
the rookies, six for the pros (NAH)
Seven for the numbers of them fuckin zeroes (WHAT?)
Eight for haters, nine for the cause
Ten for my niggaz, behind big
get that up in here
I get a bitch by the pair
Hit from the back I might pull out her hair
Young niggas wild with style we major
Step on the stage
Let the sour serenade my soul
I been the man since I was 8 years old
May the heavens spare us for every point 8 we sold
It was supposed to be a gram
myself
Seven years old, off of Bragg Boulevard
Where they bag up the raw
They gon' stand on the corner, one hand on they balls
And they ran when
to the plate
Tell them, "Hey listen what's 7 times 8"
As he contemplated I would send the ball to space
In a paper mache rocket I made
Then jog to second base
niggas really tissue
Bitch I'm only 5'8 these niggas think I'm 6'2
I just got a new chop it hold 7.62s
If I pull this big bitch out it won't miss you
She's
the earthquake lab I make shit vibrate
Bros on tag i'm upset he gotta be in by 8
Rolling paper planes hella high with my bitch have her singing like MIA
Dunking
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