guap baby che

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"Four3va, where's the ATM at?"

[Chorus]
All I know is guap, yeah
I'm tryna count them dividends
Yeah, these niggas run up, on God, I’m clutchin' like Michelin
Drank cup, nigga, what you sippin' in?
Back up nigga, yeah, you riskin' it
These niggas don't know what realness is
Mama, said that I be killin' that shit, yeah
Bad Miami bitch, she tryna feel on my dick
Perc thirty in, now I'm feelin' that shit
Yeah, I'm scared nigga, like a new thriller and shit
Niggas be like "Che, yeah, I'm feelin' that shit"
Best really splittin' the bill in this bitch
I took a trip to Miami, niggas talk down and we killin' 'em quick
Yeah, Bryson Tiller, yeah, I'm singin' and shit
Groupie bitches got me sick as the shit
Sorry baby, but you got left on dеlivered
All thesе runners runnin' round like a crip
Head on a swivel, nigga, I can't slip
Juggin' that shooter, nigga, off the rip
True Religion on my body, I'm hip
These niggas stealin' the swag and the drip
Shoot a nigga, I don't care if he R.I.P
Fuck no, I ain't smokin' on nic'
These niggas gon' hope on the wave like a bunny
No, I can't run out of money, yeah
Trap house jumpin', ayy
It's a savage hunter, ayy
I feel, oh so lucky, ayy, eyuh, eyuh-yuh-yuh-yuh