Seven Figure Habits
Fat Nick, Pouya
Become A Better Singer In Only 30 Days, With Easy Video Lessons!
Ayo Lil Mexico, pass the gas They want the old Fat Nick, back on bullshit Popped a lot of percs now I Pop a lot of Glocks if you see a bad bitch I fucked her and all her friends I spent my money on some guns Got some diamonds and some drip This a seven figure habit Can't get a casket I been rich for way too long These is facts I don't be braggin' See that Porsche roof drop, 556 pop Every IG model want my dick But they get cropped In the club twenty bottles of that Hen' I pop 'em off In the streets 30 clip, who or where We let 'em off This a big body, we spin on anybody And we ain't movin' half bricks We talkin' big money The Hellcat make a lot of noise Sound like a Glock shot your man He talk a lot of shit but he a broke f*ck Sendin' opps to the grave by the dump truck If you the last man standin' Have the pole tucked It's a blitz when I pull up, when I pull off If that bitch ain't suckin' dick I tell That hoe to pause and skrrt off You broke, don't want no issues My pistol come with some tissues These perkies don't make me miss you You thuggin' so keep it with you Remix Sprite, yeah, these bullets might, yeah These diamonds bright, yeah, keep Duckin' it's on sight, yeah Road runnin' demon, chop a pack Ain't never catch me lackin' Ain't need no scammin' just to Get my bands up, what I'm stackin' Baby Bone put 24's on that Vogue You bitches still whippin' Volvos Fanboys take photos Hoes take they clothes off and Offer me blowjobs for nothin' You expect me not to accept? How you get me naked and then You come for my neck? Every move I make is calculated All for the set As the hate grows, as do the bankrolls So we keep everything from MAC-10s to flamethrowers Too deep in the HV yellin' "why The f*ck you hate me?" I just wanna make my money and music So I keep it off safety Know my enemies wanna take me Six feet underneath the ground but It don't fuckin' phrase Yeah I walk a tightrope knowin' one Day I will fall off But until then, keep the gloves on Might hit a fuckboy with a crowbar Then run away like I was I peeled off in a minivan I'm feelin' like I'm Jackie Chan I do my stunts, I stack my bands I split it up with friends and fam I thank the Lord for all my fans I pray I'm never broke again I've been through hell and back again I'll never let the devil in my soul A hundred bands for the Benz Runnin' over picket fences Potholes and bullet holes Put fuckboys in trenches I got goals I gotta reach before I'm 37 Bitch it's Kevin, motherfucker Give a f*ck about a reverend Only prayin' to myself, yuh
Become A Better Singer In Only 30 Days, With Easy Video Lessons!
Written by: CRISTIAN PALMA, KEVIN POUYA, NICHOLAS VOUTSINAS
Lyrics © Songtrust Ave
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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"Seven Figure Habits Lyrics." Lyrics.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 29 Apr. 2024. <https://www.lyrics.com/lyric-lf/9280468/Pouya/Seven+Figure+Habits>.
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