Lyrics:
Oohhhh
I can barely walk but we still ain’t leaving the club
Oooohhh
Bottles full of bourbon and we all bout to pour it up
Im just a Florida boy
Gentlemen start your engines
Aye yo
Whats going on
Its ya boy deucecdeuce407
(Take off)
And im riding
(take off)
For them boys with the big trucks
I stay loaded, like a damn ram I'm pullin' up, Anywhere I don't give a damn
I like to stay loaded, like a Brinks truck The whole Team pullin' up
debt (yeah)
Ram truck, hoppin' out with thirty chains on and my dreads stuck
Lamb' truck, free Rio from the Lam', they got him jammed up
Blam
(Plug)
Ayy, yeah
Ayy, ayy (plug)
Writin' this from Florida with love (love)
When I linked with Mexiko, I knew I found a plug (Dro)
Rest in
Got the Lambo (keys)
Got the Tesla (keys)
In the Florida (Keys)
Mami twerkin on me
Got the Lambo (keys)
Got the Tesla (keys)
In the Florida (Keys)
L.A.
And the shopping stores in New York
The beaches in M.I.a
But they ain't nothin' like that GA red clay
Look on your map, we right above Florida
L.A.
And the shopping stores in New York
The beaches in M.I.a
But they ain't nothin' like that GA red clay
Look on your map, we right above Florida
the show with five bitches, need a couple at a time
I make plays in Miami, I ain't never hear that prime
But I shut down Eleven, left the club around nine
up with us, they better not get on the plane
When I say it's up, it's stuck, I'm really gon' ram, parade
Nigga not gon' guess who then did it, no train
Best friends in a pickup truck, we were Panama City bound
Eight hours in the back, wind blowin' with the sun beatin' down
Makin' plans to raise
had a father
He hustle in the corner
I'm telling that he wilding tryna
Truck the shit to Florida
But niggas love to hustle, it's aura
When you come up
the corner
I'm telling that he wilding tryna
Truck the shit to Florida
But niggas love to hustle, it's aura
When you come up from the poor
You struggle and you
Yeah we sipping on that red yeah that wok
Dumb bitch hit my phone she get blocked
House parties up in Jersey make it pop
Florida bitch send me tits
[Chorus]
What why'all want? why'all want this?
We give it to ya, we future thugs
We up in yo' crib like, we up in yo' club like
We up in yo' hood like,
knocking need my window fixed
Hit the club I request Bourbon Brothers in the mix
R.I.P to Elerick, make a hit sell the shit
Briley gotta brand new truck
the best god dammit
You could drive the truck but you can't Dodge Ram it
(Boy Backs)
y'all niggas want to ride with me
y'all niggas want to smoke get high
Best friends in a pickup truck, we were Panama City bound
Eight hours in the back, wind blowin with the sun beatin down
Makin plans to raise some
a fool like that
(Why you so laid back?) I'm just cool like that
Game fuckin tight, nigga, a step above
A nigga fully strapped so I steps in the club
1
O, I had to call No Limit up
Baby MAC, baby Gat, shit to wake the baby up
Got my baby boo
Cop the X5: that's a baby truck
Santana rolling big, Jimmy in
truck
Santana rolling big, Jimmy in the Caddy
Dayton, Youngstown, Cleveland, Cincinnati
In the double-O, I represent the C-O
Please hoe, Harlem World,
place, now my ice hit like the sunlight
You still got a future don't be stuck on where you at right now
Two tone Cuban link it shine like Florida, I'm
boy we can't snap up
Got shooters in black trucks
No boy I can't smoke you out
We can't even match huh
I'm in Florida now my enemies
Is fucking mad huh
my stats)
Copped the Bentley truck, there's more room in it
So I could pull up to the club with more goons in it
Shit, the Wraith got the stars, I
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