Hostess Rudimental (Ft. MORGAN (UK))

[Chorus]
I'm your motherfuckin' hostess
Hot Benz, all tens, got the most-est
Raise a motherfuckin' flute for the toast, yeah
Locked in, tell your friends where we posted, uh
I'm your motherfuckin' hostess
Hot Benz, all tens, got the most-est
Raise a motherfuckin' flute for the toast, yeah
Locked in, tell your friends where we posted

[Verse 1]
You can pop bottles if you want
Givin' off charm, hangin' bitches from your arm
So you think you've got style, but you don't
You're not comin' in, evеn with your Gucci coat
I'm a-lookin' at the ice on your throat
Talkin' so big, boy, I hope you don't chokе
And you got a little somethin' on your nose
You ain't comin' in, it's a broke-free zone
Yeah, I know you're leasing your Lambo
Arms so jacked like you're Rambo
Yeah, I know you never seen a bankroll (Ah, ah)
Yeah, I know you're leasing your iPhone, yeah
Play the bad boy, but you're Santo, yeah
Really think you're Rocky, but you're Fat Joe
Scaramouche, do the Mitch fantango