Lyrics:
40 Glock like a drummer sound
On the mob bitch gun you down (gang)
100 round 100 round 100 round (100 round)
Black hoodies when we come around (come
ladies
Say I love my DJ
I love my DJ
Everybody now
Whine the DJ
Whine the DJ
Whine the DJ
Whine the DJ
Pona the DJ
Whine the DJ
Whine the DJ
That’s the DJ
time to roll
Might as well have fun there's no parol
I set a trap and caught you like a mouse
For times ahead no chance for a halfway house
Pump
Annie?
All the bad bitches can't stand me
Christ, I opened the box
Looked down at the crystal rock
He like, "Wife, give me all you got"
And when I
the Maybach, fuck a room baby
I use my tongue, use your mouth, watch your tooth baby
Dick ain't proper got a lot of bodies
And the house game Hilton, got a lot
house (house) with a hundred grand (grand)
I can't help it, I'm addicted to the rubber bands
It's time to re-up (up), I got a hundred grams (grams)
I
youngin' in my other room, fuckin up my sheets
She tell 'em boy don't grab my hair because you're fuckin up my weave
I got a hundred bottles Ciroc boy
All
the Maybach, f*** a room baby
I use my tongue, use your mouth, watch your tooth baby
Dick ain't proper got a lot of bodies
And the house game Hilton, got a lot
I'm overdue
I got shorty naked then I ate it cuz she told me to
Treat me like legend down in Texas move like DJ Screw
I got 40 grams of shrooms at my
(Rich Gang)
They asking bout me in the trap house
Hundred bricks, nigga, like a hundred chips
Hundred whips, nigga, another hundred clips
Overseas,
(Rich Gang)
They asking bout me in the trap house
Hundred bricks, nigga, like a hundred chips
Hundred whips, nigga, another hundred clips
Overseas,
My energy kinetic
The fitted hat by Ebbets
(Yessir)
(DJ Drama) Yeah
I like sugar, I like sweets, I don't like the spicy eats
I need bridges in
I send you my love (send you my love)
Around the clock (don't stop)
Twenty-four seven, three hundred sixty-five
My DJ name DJ FM AM J-Jason
I
that's a trap house feeling
Them finna know my niggas
Good vibes all day we on good good feeling
Def finna know my niggas
Keep it 100 that's a dope boy
ho at home
Another nigga
He's in your house using your ho and your house phone
Aye
I'm feeling like 100 racks
I'm feeling like 100 stacks
I'm feeling
Tell the DJ bring it back (tell the DJ bring it back)
I look, I smell, I taste like money its a big big mistake ya try ta take sum from me
Just want
Countin' up hundreds by the thousand
It's funny I was going crazy not too long ago
Women problems every morning like the Maury show
Swimming upstream
and Andretti in these joints
These motherfuckin' joints is like
We smokin' like three hundred dollar joints basically at this point
I don't know if you ever
a clean house
You got a clean house, yeah
I can tell by conversation she about her cream
She independent, by herself, and keeps her house clean
DJ
public school too
Like what's in between a 3 and 1 and House Gang, I spoke to all 3 on 1 call
Like I dropped 2 albums and #3 is 1 second from bein' done
youngin' in my other room, fuckin up my sheets
She tell 'em boy don't grab my hair because you're fuckin up my weave
I got a hundred bottles Ciroc boy
All
(Rich Gang)
They asking bout me in the trap house
Hundred bricks, nigga, like a hundred chips
Hundred whips, nigga, another hundred clips
Overseas,
(Rich Gang)
They asking bout me in the trap house
Hundred bricks, nigga, like a hundred chips
Hundred whips, nigga, another hundred clips
Overseas,
(Rich Gang)
They asking bout me in the trap house
Hundred bricks, nigga, like a hundred chips
Hundred whips, nigga, another hundred clips
Overseas,
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