Lyrics:
Nobody to tell 'em they special, you know I got 'em
Nobody there to tell them they love 'em, well I got 'em, uh
No matter where you go you gotta
to roost
Kevi Khust' waking up the boy
Tell em we the truth we the groove
Never shake us off
Look I make many moves
Plenty moves iyeah
Yeka ipapa
Sidli
panicking
They wearing shit off the mannequin
(Tell ‘em)
Three-piece suit or Jeff Hamilton (Mean)
Laker leather on, whatever storm we damaging
(Ya boy going
cash backstage at Ellen wildin'
Get right wit cha', Saint Laurent boots on Gucci saddles
Met Gala, dab capital, abracadabra
You can tell, but don't
Drop in this bitch and you got slap wit em
Didn't I tell you bitch ass niggas move along man?
Before your goofy ass get smoked! MOB
Get a brick
Bust
6ix9ine hair (hair)
And we comin' through the back, we don't go to the concierge
Now that boy run fashion, Cardi in that Fashion Nova gear (haan)
We
bitch, you didn't see me comin'
Coke Wave Boys run it, haan (haan)
Gave 'em the wave around the globe
Around the whole atlas (whole atlas)
bitch boys
Yeah, yeah, pussy boy, I never tell
Steady talkin', hide my back, man, pussy bitch, help make my bill
She want cash app for a wig, I told that
bitch, I been thuggin'
Pull up, dump out the window (slatt, slatt)
My oppers sweet, bitch, I don't feel 'em, I sleep on Gucci pillow (pussy)
Pull up
Everybody goin' through the same thing
Let me tell you how it go in here, uh (how it go)
Boy, it's kinda cold in here (boy, it's kinda cold)
You ain't
don't got no blue hair
Polynesian Fresh Prince
Tell'em I'm the new heir
Tribal on my Nikes
Tell'em these the new airs
Got the trunk knocking
They be like
TRUST THESE HOES CAUSE THESE HOES BE FULL OF MESS BOY , I WAS ON THAT BLOCK , 30 HANGIN OUT HOW I PLAY
IT BOY , I JUST ROCK THE GUCCI I JUST COPPED A UZI
options
My slogan 'round the world Four Pockets
Even though I hate the opps
I ain't gon' bad talk 'em
Or try to knock unless I knock 'em off
Gucci socks
with my afro, uh
Tell 'em meet me in the back though
And they better have my
Motherfuckin' cash flow
When I'm chillin' out in
Houston with the Astros
should know that
You won't see me in it
If the ride ain't tinted
If I forget to mention
It's all about the Benjamins Somebody better tell em
I can't tell these niggas what I know
Yeah we got them packs coming in on the road
I do anything when it come to my bro
Niggas love to flex never got
tell me
Wake up from the damn dream all this damn jeopardy
No it ain't about no clothes Gucci
No it ain't about the watch lois V
No it ain't about a car
They continued strong like the quiet storm
"Lover boy, run everything that you've got on"
"Run your Gucci, your Louis and your fresh gold chains
And your
a tool box, bitch, it's Hammer-time
So excuse me as I nail 'em 'til some fell and
Just repel 'em, I'ma kill 'em
Someone tell 'em I'ma kill 'em
I'm gon'
lets just celebrate that we still here and
Whoa
Never leave me alone
Tell em holla at ya boy and cause I'll be comin home
I'll be comin home
Ooh,
Tyson)
Yeah, boy, when you was gettin' your ass beat by your parents
I was watchin' my parents baggin' up grams, dreamin' 'bout McLarens
I was facin'
I can tell that nigga broke by the shit that he be talking bout
I dun up ten, flashed thirty what we talking bout
Put em on the road, lil bro turn
the game the way I play
I sell it to you straight before I ever tell a fake
Walk in the room Screwface make ‘em faint
Ain’t hard to tell that my name
the game the way I play
I sell it to you straight before I ever tell a fake
Walk in the room Screwface make ‘em faint
Ain’t hard to tell that my name
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