اكتشف قصة هذه الأغنية وموضوعاتها ومشاعرها.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah (ayy, yeah) | Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah (ayy, yeah) | Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah (ayy, yeah)
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah (ayy, yeah) Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah (ayy, yeah) Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah (ayy, yeah) Yeah, yeah (ayy, yeah), yeah, ayy I copped me a house with a gate I get rich, I know these niggas hate I was starvin', they ate in my face Now you know how your medicine tastes This a marathon, this not a race I'm just tryin' to find my pace I get rich without tryin' every day I get money, I count up some ways And if I'm not dead, I'm gettin' to that bread I call up your bitch, I just want some head I just want that top, I don't want no sex You know I got guap, I don't need to flex My Porsche is droptop, I don't need the 'Vette Yeah, push-start, ain't no keys to that, yeah Talkin' down and we shoot at his head Tried to run and we shot off his legs Play with your bitch pussy, don't play with my bread These niggas play gangster, but really be scared You just talkin', you soft, you really like Ted I get high and nod off, I'm off of these meds I get topped in my pit, you ain't got no bed Boy, you don't pay no rent, you don't pay for shed Got Givenchy my shirt and my toes and my legs Shawty ridin' my dick like it came with some pegs, yeah I just been pouring this red, yeah And it's Wock' Shawty suck me up 'til her jaws lock Told her, "Baby, keep going, don't stop" Yeah, that's just how I roll and I rock Yeah, I'm rolling off X 'til I drop Fuck that bulletproof vest, you get shot in your top Swear these niggas be thinking they cool, and they not These niggas be lame, these niggas be hot Think it's a game, boy, you could get shot I got good aim, don't need a red dot Try me? Ain't no way, he thought I forgot I was fucking your bae, she dropped me the dot She sent the location, yeah, she sent the pin You went on vacation, my boys, they went in We took everything, left a note that said, "Ken Carson" Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah (ayy, yeah) Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah (ayy, yeah) Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah (ayy, yeah) Yeah, yeah (ayy, yeah), yeah, ayy I copped me a house with a gate I get rich, I know these niggas hate I was starvin', they ate in my face Now you know how your medicine tastes This a marathon, this not a race I'm just tryin' to find my pace I get rich without tryin' every day I get money, I count up some ways And if I'm not dead, I'm gettin' to that bread I call up your bitch, I just want some head I just want that top, I don't want no sex You know I got guap, I don't need to flex My Porsche is droptop, I don't need the 'Vette Yeah, push-start, ain't no keys to that, yeah Talkin' down and we shoot at his head Tried to run and we shot off his legs
لا توجد أغانٍ مشابهة بعد.
