Lyrics
Yea (yea)
Fresh like the first day of the school on the weekend
I put this shit on today, for no reason
Got something to smile about, I fixed up my teeth
Straight from the lot, call up Herm, get it geeked up
Thousand horse power, my car gotta keep up
Act like I’m slow all the time, but I peep stuff
What kinda guy let a bitch keep the beef up?
I let ’em live for a while, now the lease up
Nail and a hammer, I done built it from the ground up
Brodie say he workin’, but the bricks done went down some
They handle the business, I do not go around them
You can get a hunnid if you want ’em, we got pound spots
I’m the one that’s really havin’ motion, what they talmbout?
Cars, I done did that, chains, don’t need no mo’
So many clothes, startin’ to feel like a hobo
Every milestone, tryna buy me a new home
Potholes keep on fuckin’ up the Forgi’s, take the rims off
The way she twist and suck it, like she tryna take the skin off
Bro ‘nem, in the striker, but it’s good, we swapped the VINs out
Don’t bark up this tree, I make a choppa knock his limbs off
Thousand dollar after every road, that’s what they hittin’ for
All I do is fuck her, I done turned her to a nympho
FN’s, blackouts, Gen 5’s, Gen 4’s
Trippin’ for the family, I don’t play about my kin folks
I took the guys to L.A. for a business meetin’
God, watch my friends, I can handle my enemies
Fuck I look like havin’ smoke with my mini-me’s?
Niggas gotta be jokin’, you kiddin’ me?
Y’all real kids, been small-time ballin’, now it’s real big
I was standin’ in the bleachers, on some cheerin’ shit
Never been a hater, I don’t care enough
This shit ain’t gon’ stop until they bury us
Fresh off the jet, I end up in the projects
See sum I like, no police, so I’ma cop it
Don’t follow my page, I post racks every day
For these niggas and bitches that’s counting my pockets (woo)
Hurdle this bitch in Huaraches
Lambo’, Ferrari, Bentleys, I got options
I took the private jet out to Nevada
4PF Ced, they got smoked like a Rasta
Trenches with me, something seem suspicious, something seeming fishy
‘M Four Pockets Full and look like biscuits
Overprice us and we uppin’, uppin’
Foh Foh Foh Foh, this sound, sound delicious
You can’t use the dishes, in the kitchen cooking’
Woop, woop, litty, can’t abort the mission, bitch, I got addictions
I don’t do photo pictures, keep it low and with me
I took the guys to L.A. for a business meetin’
God, watch my friends, I can handle my enemies
Fuck I look like havin’ smoke with my mini-me’s?
Niggas gotta be jokin’, you kiddin’ me?
Y’all real kids, been small-time ballin’, now it’s real big
I was standin’ in the bleachers, on some cheerin’ shit
Never been a hater, I don’t care enough
This shit ain’t gon’ stop until they bury us