[Verse 1: Wiz Khalifa]
Uh, long days, gotta recharge to run the play
Paper straight, come up with bars to get us paid
Major weight make it hard for them to imitate
Rolex tell the daytime and the date
If I eat, all my niggas gon' get a plate
If you hate, guaranteed, you ain't in the way
Clown shit, we don't entertain
Always been a young nigga with the vision and I'm still the same
Turned an idea into a strain
Do it once, I fuck with you, I respect you, you do it again
Nothin' but the best for the fam
I don't gotta flex for the 'Gram
Too many rings for my hands, so we stack 'em and stash 'em
We them fuckin' champs
[Verse 2: Curren$y]
Ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy
Ah-ah, uh
You ain't gotta lie to kick it
You ain't close to rich enough to be in here
Papered up and stoned at every appearance
Martha's Vineyard, baby left her diamond necklace behind
At the bed and breakfast, it's fine
She got that on a heist, she'll steal a better one on the next one
I only fuck with professionals
Sniper scopes and silencers stuck inside of leather sectionals
Watch where you sit at, might hear that click-clack
I copped the BMW six pack, M package
Highway action, state mansion
That's what G's do, you smell that fire in the breeze, fool
Don't you dare call this shit a part two
This a whole 'nother animal, this that mankind mandible
Chanel drip on your television channel
Counting cake lit as a birthday candle
Uh, long days, gotta recharge to run the play
Paper straight, come up with bars to get us paid
Major weight make it hard for them to imitate
Rolex tell the daytime and the date
If I eat, all my niggas gon' get a plate
If you hate, guaranteed, you ain't in the way
Clown shit, we don't entertain
Always been a young nigga with the vision and I'm still the same
Turned an idea into a strain
Do it once, I fuck with you, I respect you, you do it again
Nothin' but the best for the fam
I don't gotta flex for the 'Gram
Too many rings for my hands, so we stack 'em and stash 'em
We them fuckin' champs
[Verse 2: Curren$y]
Ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy
Ah-ah, uh
You ain't gotta lie to kick it
You ain't close to rich enough to be in here
Papered up and stoned at every appearance
Martha's Vineyard, baby left her diamond necklace behind
At the bed and breakfast, it's fine
She got that on a heist, she'll steal a better one on the next one
I only fuck with professionals
Sniper scopes and silencers stuck inside of leather sectionals
Watch where you sit at, might hear that click-clack
I copped the BMW six pack, M package
Highway action, state mansion
That's what G's do, you smell that fire in the breeze, fool
Don't you dare call this shit a part two
This a whole 'nother animal, this that mankind mandible
Chanel drip on your television channel
Counting cake lit as a birthday candle
Comments (0)
The minimum comment length is 50 characters.
Information
Users of Guests are not allowed to comment this publication.
There are no comments yet. You can be the first!