Lyrics:
gon' get that straight up from me
It's always get your weight up not your hate up from me
They came to me for finessin' baby
By they time they get
Sugar look like salt I guess dats why Dey all confused
I ain't hit da mall baby boy dese Jimmy Choo's
Infrared pink and da strings canary Blue
My team
I got this wine on my mind
feelin fine darlin
Now all you see baby
ain't what you need baby
I wanna know just how low
it goes
Official nasty
Just tell me what you want
Girl, you got nothin to lose
So baby let's get high on this retro cruise
But if you go home early I'll be singin the blues
I
Committee, pat'na
It's H-U-E-Y (yup), whom fly G five (yup)
And by the look in my eyes she have nice thighs (oh)
What her mama done gave her done grew
Committee, pat'na
It's H-U-E-Y (yup), whom fly G five (yup)
And by the look in my eyes she have nice thighs (oh)
What her mama done gave her done grew
leather's domestic
But she's got the drive to ride by the curbside
And so we get some
Lean me over
Her dress
Blue like a Maserati
No no no navy like corpses
The way I cook a play up they be calling me habachi aye
Lil bitch want me I don't even got the time for her
Talking bout baby get me high I gotta line for
counting stacks
If my baby want some Goyard, Ima' go and get her that
Just chopped the top off, my headache
Blue faces by the ceiling, everyday it's
homie I need my scripts
This ain't cheap, lil bitch, check the belt on these jeans
Mgp and some Wock, pour a six with my team
Got your bitch right here
(Yoz, what you tellin' me?) yeah
(Beat by Yamaica Productions, baby)
Ooh (Trap House Mob) too, too, too
Look (Grrr)
Bend her over, blow her back out
leaf suit
With my five hundred dollar brown knee-high Ballsy
Wes said, "It's pimpin' how you wear 'em outside ya pants
And by the way my ham sandwichs
you stayed with me tonight
So I granted her wish
[Fatlip]
I was high like the vocal tone of my nigga Bootie Brown
Decided to take a ride to see
know she gon? do it until we dock
?Cause girl what's wrong baby that's all you got?
I cut that ass like a beat and make it knock
Trust me nigga that's
I got by
Creflo pray Mike Vick payed bobby brown stray Whitney lost weight
Kimbo Slice on the pad when I write
That Mayweather money looking funny in
her mouth only out of spite
(Whoa-oh-oh) but I'd never hit a woman, never in my life
(Ayy) I was in too deep like Mekhi Phife'
(Ayy) in that pussy so
forty-four chrome, Mac-11 stow it in they jeans
Pretty thugs, Firm team
hold it down, we hold the crown
Got it locked rock shop, heron caught
Out of town
I don’t wanna kick it broke bitch Ion got time for a bitch I’m tryna get this money right quick money looking blue like stich money looking blue like
Baby baby baby baby
That's ass go crazy
Gotta keep it in rotation
Hit that stage
Throw some ones
And get her naked
Throw it high
To the sky
Make her
Turn it up a
Turn it up a
Turn it up a little more, little bit
Sitting 204 outside in the nighttime
Saw you walking up its the right time
Blue jeans
I got this wine on my mind
feelin fine darlin
Now all you see baby
ain't what you need baby
I wanna know just how low
it goes
Official nasty
I got this wine on my mind
Feelin fine darlin
Now all you see baby
Ain't what you need baby
I want to know just how low
It goes
Official nasty
a jet season left bleeding n**** on dead streets
You seen me in my blue jeans with blue strings I laced them on my cool kicks
I blew cash from hard work
on two Benz in them new blue jeans
Japanese denim money stuffed in 'em
Twenty something cars, motherfucker, I'm winnin'
I'm talkin' Japanese denim,
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