Tag: Fiji


Lil Yachty – Baby Daddy Lyrics




[Intro & Producertag]
Uh
30, you a fool for this one

[Verse 1: Lil Yachty]
Tell your baby daddy I’m richer
Bitch, I don’t wanna sip liquor
Stop tryna puncture my niggas
Just left the club, that shit was weak
Grab me a hoe off the street (huh)
Wait ’till I leave, I’m finna fuck
Beat it ’till I fall asleep (whooo!)

[Hook: Lil Yachty]
Your baby daddy a sucka, ayy
Your baby daddy a busta, ayy
Your baby daddy so broke
He hit the plug for a free line of coke
I’m dirty deep with the whole gang
Pull up, we bringin’ the pain
Fuckin’ a bitch, grabbin’ her throat
Poppin’ out all of her veins
Ride a Maybach, not a Mustang
Nut on her face, fuck up her veins
Chokeslam a nigga, like I was Kane
Choppa, it sing like Zayn
Shoot out the roof, no aim
Shoot out the roof, no aim
I want the guap, you can have fame
I made them blue hunnids sing

[Verse 2: Lil Pump]
(Yeah, yeah, yeah)
Two choppas with me, I don’t use no pistols (brr, ooh!)
Bih, fat backwood, it look like a missile! (yuh, ooh!)
My bitches come when I go, blow the whistle (brr!)
Your girl gave me top, and then you gon’ kiss her (damn!)
Yeah, I walked in and I’m drippin’, it’s Fiji (ooh!)
Too much ice on me, the doctor come see me (damn!)
Niggas hate on me, they wish they could see me (oh shit!)
All my cars foreign and ain’t got no ceiling
Blow two hundred bands at night (yeah)
Show you how I flip the light (ooh!)
Fuck five hoes, I ain’t got no wife (damn!)
Bust down, on the floor that’s dynamite (yeah)
Flexer, on my neck, I don’t need a light
Bands here, too lit, I ain’t thinkin’ twice
Smoke twenty blunts, yeah, I’m feelin’ like a fuckin’ kite (brr!)
Put my dick in her, oh shit, y’all pussy tight! (ooh!)

[Hook: Lil Yachty]
Your baby daddy a sucker, aye
Your baby daddy a busta, aye
Your baby daddy so broke
He hit the plug for a free line of coke
I’m dirty deep with the gang, pull up, we bringin’ the pain
Fuckin’ a bitch, grabbin’ her throat
Poppin’ out all of her veins
Ride a Maybach, not a Mustang
Nut on her face, fuck up her veins
Choke slam a nigga, like I was Kane
Choppa, it sing like Zayn
Shoot out the roof, no aim
Shoot out the roof, no aim
I want the guap, you can have fame
I made them blue hunnids sing




Rich The Kid – Bands Lyrics




[Hook – Mally Bandz]
Cause I’m the man
If I ain’t text you bitch, i’m prolly chasing bands
We ain’t shaking hands (nooo)
If I ain’t text you bitch, i’m prolly chasing bands
If you want extra, I told her to bring a friend
She wanna sit, now she sleeping of a xan
This heat on me gon give you a tan
We don’t do no flexing on the gram
She ain’t ask no questions, just got in
All I did was text and hit again
What the fuck you in here for ain’t tryna win
Diamonds look a waterfall and they blinding them
Get here looking lost, you misguide them
Every year as soon I got in

[Verse 1 – Melo Guyzer]
On the gram talking greasy
I’m out on you like 3d
Designer dripping like Fiji
Lowkey, nigga wanna be me
Get that money, thats the basics
Whole lotta blue faces
Taking trips out to the Vegas
Fucking bitches, different races
This lean got me in the Matrix
Cookie [?], I
Going gorilla, going ape shit
Then I pull up in the big fit
Baby girl, she was fiending
So I ran up in Nemans
I spend what you niggas dreaming
She wanna glizzy, she a demon
I got in on me, I run it now
Fucking everybody like furniture
Boy, your in trouble with the Punisher
I saw [?] like coroner
I wanna run it up bands
Now you bro, I ain’t no mans
My bro pop you like xan
He the homie, he cool like a fan

[Hook – Mally Bandz]
Cause I’m the man
If I ain’t text you bitch, i’m prolly chasing bands
We ain’t shaking hands (nooo)
If I ain’t text you bitch, i’m prolly chasing bands
If you want extra, I told her to bring a friend
She wanna sit, now she sleeping of a xan
This heat on me gon give you a tan
We don’t do no flexing on the gram
She ain’t ask no questions, just got in
All I did was text and hit again
What the fuck you in here for ain’t tryna win
Diamonds look a waterfall and they blinding them
Get here looking lost, you misguide them
Every pack I get year as soon I got in

[Verse 2 – Rich the Kid]
I told that bih please don’t complain
Hoe, this a bentley, not a range
I’m tryna fuck, I’m kicking game
Oh that’s your boyfriend, he a lame
Everything, straight flooded
Double cup, still money
One around hunnid
I was broke, came from nothing
She wanna hop in
I fucking her sister, her best friend
They accusing each other, they lesbian
The pussy licking when they [?] in

[Hook – Mally Bandz]
Cause I’m the man
If I ain’t text you bitch, i’m prolly chasing bands
We ain’t shaking hands (nooo)
If I ain’t text you bitch, i’m prolly chasing bands
If you want extra, I told her to bring a friend
She wanna sit, now she sleeping of a xan
This heat on me gon give you a tan
We don’t do no flexing on the gram
She ain’t ask no questions, just got in
All I did was text and hit again
What the fuck you in here for ain’t tryna win
Diamonds look a waterfall and they blinding them
Get here looking lost, you misguide them
Every year as soon I got in


Snoop Dogg – Dis Finna Be A Breeze


[Intro: Ha Ha Davis]
Okay, out here in Cali
Smoking on this green that look like Luigi
I got my Fiji, I’m finna take your girl to the water
Dis finna be a breeze!

[Verse 1: Snoop Dogg]
Yard full of grass, raking up dough
Still on my shit who I’m makin’ it fo?
House on the hills with the lake in the fron’
Old ass nigga should be takin’ it slow
So what?
No, what yo cut ain’t mine
Nigga get up off my line
I’m back to the basics
Tracing shit
Gangbang nigga with the basic shit
Real P.I. with amazing spits
So I never ever never have to chase a bitch
Dig it, and I came wit it
And your only hoe might get it, admit it
Locked in, locked out
Talk shit, get socked out
See, these is G’s
And this is finna be a breeze

[Chorus: Snoop Dogg]
Yeah, music, please
Dis finna be a breeze
And my keys
And my trees
Dis finna be a breeze
Yeah
Dis finna be a breeze
Music please
And my keys
And my trees

[Verse 2: Snoop Dogg]
Picture me sitting in my throne alone
L.B.C. yeah I’m on the moon
Zone to zone, I’ll roam in Rome
Solid as a rock, etched in stone
Retriever, retriever
Catch the bone
Big dog, baby
The rest are clones
Bass go boom with the baritone
Clearing shit up like a claritone
I’m really home, I’m barely gone
Look at my eyes, I’m really blown
Peoples is ready for me to rap
But I just took a whole bone to the neck
No sweat on the set
Sprinter van to the jet
Yeah, music, please
Dis finna be a breeze

[Chorus: Snoop Dogg]
Yeah, music, please
Dis finna be a breeze
And my keys
And my trees
Dis finna be a breeze
Yeah
Dis finna be a breeze
Music please
And my keys
And my trees

[Outro: Ha Ha Davis]
*coughing*
Fuck, whatchu got me on?
I thought dis was finna be a breeze
You got me on my knees begging God, please
For my soul back
I’m fried!


Lil Pump – Who Dat


[Intro]
Ooh, ooh, Lil Pump, yuh, ooh, ooh
Ooh, yuh (brr, brr)
Who dat write the flexin’? (brr, brr)
Who? Lil Pump, Lil Pump

[Hook]
Who dat write the flexin’? (who?)
Bitch, it’s Lil Pump (brr, Lil Pump)
Racks up on my necklace (necklace)
Bitch, it’s Lil Pump (brr)
Who dat write the flexin’? (you, you)
Bitch, it’s Lil Pump
Trapper of the century (what?)
Bitch, it’s Lil Pump
Hold up (what?), pop out (brr)
Boy, you know I’m a dropout (you)
Hold up (yuh), pop out (what?)
Boy, you know I’m a dropout (ooh)
Who dat write the flexin’? (who?)
Bitch, it’s Lil Pump (brr, brr)
Racks up on my necklace (what?)
Bitch, it’s Lil Pump (Lil Pump, Lil Pump)
Who dat write the flexin’? (what?)
Bitch, it’s Lil Pump (brr, brr)
Trapper of the century (you)
Bitch, it’s Lil Pump
Hold up (what?), pop out (you)
Boy, you know I’m a dropout (brr)
Hold up (what?), pop out (huh?)
Boy, you know I’m a dropout (yeah)

[Verse]
Pop four Xans with your Mondo (brr)
Take 3 Percs with your main hoe (what?)
I count racks everyday though (you)
Got your bitch booty at the Play-Doh (damn)
Got your bitch booty off a Percocet (damn)
Lil Pump only fly a private jet (ooh)
The ice on my wrist make her pussy wet (yeah)
Rich shining light, yeah, crystal meth (huh?)
Damn, why you flex like this? (ooh)
Damn, why you flex like this?
Fiji water on your wrist (Fiji!)
I can’t wife no bitch (no!)
Louis all over my bag (Louis)
Louis all over my belt, yeah
Bitch, I swim in that pussy like I was Michael Phelps (brr, brr, brr)

[Hook]
Who dat write the flexin’? (who?)
Bitch, it’s Lil Pump (Lil Pump, Lil Pump)
Racks up on my necklace (brr)
Bitch, it’s Lil Pump (brr, brr)
Who dat write the flexin’? (flexin’?)
Bitch, it’s Lil Pump (ooh)
Trapper of the century (you)
Bitch, it’s Lil Pump (aye)
Hold up, pop out (what?)
Boy, you know I’m a dropout (ooh)
Hold up (you), pop out (brr)
Boy, you know I’m a dropout (yeah)
Who dat write the flexin’? (who?)
Bitch, it’s Lil Pump (Lil Pump)
Racks up on my necklace (necklace)
Bitch, it’s Lil Pump (brr)
Who dat write the flexin’? (who?)
Bitch, it’s Lil Pump (you)
Trapper of the century (aye)
Bitch, it’s Lil Pump (ooh)
Hold up (what?), pop out (brr)
Boy, you know I’m a dropout (yeah)
Hold up (what?), pop out (aye)
Boy, you know I’m a dropout

[Outro]
Ooh, Lil Pump, yeah


Boss – Lil Pump lyrics


Lyrics Lil Pump – Boss

Yeah, I came in with the sauce, ooh
Yeah, I came in with the sauce, yeah
b*tch, I flex Rick Ross, yeah
b*tch, I flex Rick Ross, yeahhh
Yeah, I came in with the sauce, ooh
Yeah, I came in with the sauce, ooh
b*tch, I flex Rick Ross, yeah
b*tch, I flex Rick Ross, yeah
Walk in the trap like a boss, ooh
Walk in the trap like a boss
Walk in the trap like a boss, oooh
Walk in the trap like a boss
Yeah, I came in with the sauce, ooh
Yeah, I came in with the sauce, ooh
b*tch, I flex Rick Ross, ooh
b*tch, I flex Rick Ross, oohhh.

Walk in the trap, Ric Flair, ooh
f*ck a nigga b*tch don’t care, damn
Throwin’ up racks in the air, damn
Told that b*tch Lil Pump yeah, ooh
Damn, I just broke my wrist
100 on my wrist, can’t tell me s**t
Pop 4 xans then I f*cked a nigga’s b*tch
Never wearin’ slippers, I always flippin’ bricks
Aye, yeah I came up with the sauce damn
Damn, yeah I sold crack in the halls, damn
Lil Pump, bands on top
Gave my mom 2 Glocks
Versuri-lyrics.info
Damn, everybody do wanna be me
Lookin’ at my neck and its Fiji, ooh
Damn, everybody do wanna be me
Lookin’ at my neck and its Fiji, ooh.

Yeah, I came in with the sauce, ooh
Yeah, I came in with the sauce, yeah
b*tch, I flex Rick Ross, yeah
b*tch, I flex Rick Ross, yeah
Yeah, I came in with the sauce, ooh
Yeah, I came in with the sauce, ooh
b*tch, I flex Rick Ross, yeah
b*tch, I flex Rick Ross, yeahhh.
Lil Pump lyrics
Video Lil Pump


Rick Ross – Dead Presidents (feat. Future, Jeezy & Yo Gotti) (Rather You Than Me Album)


[Intro: Rick Ross]
Rather You Than Me
If you’ve been fucking with me from Port of Miami
It’s been hell of a fucking journey
(M-M-Maybach Music) Ain’t nun’ changed, nigga
Lil’ stronger, lil’ wiser
Maybe a lil’ more violent
Blame it on America, fuck it
(Beat Billionaire)

[Verse 1: Rick Ross]
I’m pullin’ off the lot, I bought it cash (woah)
Her future bright, don’t give a fuck about her past (woah)
Her ass be lookin’ good inside the leggings (woah)
But I notice that she missin’ all her edges (woah)
I run the game just by runnin’ with the felons (woah)
Poor attitude, and got rich nigga calisthenics (woah)
Walkin’ in the courtroom, sippin’ on a beverage (woo)
I know the judge, so I got a lot of leverage (woo)
Pissin’ on these bitches is a fetish (R. Kelly)
Fully loaded .60s smokin’ on a seven (all ready)
Your dawg get a dime, you never wrote a letter (woah)
Still in a box, got him rappin’ acapella (woah)
Can’t trust no people fuckin’ with the reverend (woah)
I got a chopper, boy, don’t make me be the devil (woah)
He knockin’ on the door and know the password (woo)
Gave me his blessings, boy, I’m hotter than the last verse (woo)

[Hook: Jeezy & Yo Gotti]
Dead presidents, dead, d-dead presidents
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
Let’s go to war, yeah, all my lil’ niggas militant
Let’s go to trial, we guilty ’til proven innocent
Dead presidents, dead, d-dead presidents
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
Fed sentences, fed, f-fed sentences
Let’s go to trial, we guilty ’til proven innocent

[Verse 2: Future]
I got thirty white bitches like Tommy Lee
I make drug money, nigga, I make blood money
On my third passport, and I’m geechie as fuck
I got wet stripper pussy at the airport
I got Bowlingreen dollars on my chopper
Bussin’ down a hundred bales in the bathtub
Fuck this Philippine pussy in some house shoes
I got dope money, nigga, I got war wounds
Get to the clutchin’ on the hammer, ain’t no dance moves
I was posted on the, stoop, hangin’ with my Haitians
The murder’s on the, news, all front pages
Young niggas catchin’ bodies, ain’t no relations
I was stackin’ Ben Franks and bought some Fiji
They rob you two times in a row, that’s a repeat
And I’m fuckin’ niggas hoes ’cause they easy
I’m in here fuckin’ niggas wives, balls breezy
She gotta fuck me like she love me, like she need me
I got my Maybach flooded out with extra TVs
I make a movie every single fuckin’ day
I John Travolta when I flaunt that Patek face

[Hook: Jeezy & Yo Gotti]
Dead presidents, dead, d-dead presidents
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
Let’s go to war, yeah, all my lil’ niggas militant
Let’s go to trial, we guilty ’til proven innocent
Dead presidents, dead, d-dead presidents
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
Fed sentences, fed, f-fed sentences
Let’s go to trial, we guilty ’til proven innocent

[Verse 3: Jeezy]
Let’s go!
Hands on these niggas, got the yellow bracelet
Check off in my pocket like the yellow pages
Fuck you niggas was when I was ashy, nigga?
Loafers in the chop, I keep it classy, nigga
Build a empire, yeah, that’s what my state of mind
Motherfuck ’em all, yeah, that’s what my state of mind
Keep the blocks over there, we call it Legoland
Meanwhile, the kids smokin’ like it’s Amsterdam
Dope boy prez, you know who got the troops
Sixteen when I bought my first Rollie
Legend in my hood just like I’m Escobar
Never ride dirties in the extra car

[Hook: Jeezy & Yo Gotti]
Dead presidents, dead, d-dead presidents
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
Let’s go to war, yeah, all my lil’ niggas militant
Let’s go to trial, we guilty ’til proven innocent
Dead presidents, dead, d-dead presidents
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
Fed sentences, fed, f-fed sentences
Let’s go to trial, we guilty ’til proven innocent


Souleye – Ease That lyrics


Artist: Souleye Title: Ease That Hook Ease that lean back roll me up that
Weed sack / Calling out my ladies on the front and the back / Lean back
Ease that roll me up that weed sack / We we’ve them tracks that ride
Like Cadillac’s / Verse 1 I’ve been all around the world / And easy
To see that most people that I meet / Love blazing on them trees / I’ll
Find it in Fiji where no weed be / Or in Mendo where it’s in every home /
Grown out doors organic is my favorite type / But then again I like that
Indoor bud at night / Smoking sativa in the middle of the afternoon / Get
High motivate party on the move / Even my mom pack that bong / I’ve
Watched my dad smoke all day long / From the rich and the famous / To the
Poor and broke / They all love that dope / Government don’t know I know
My fourth amendment / Can’t search without a warrant / Hook Ease that
Lean back roll me up that weed sack / Calling out my ladies on the front
And the back / Lean back ease that roll me up that weed sack / Wewe’ve
Them tracks that ride like Cadillac’s / Verse 2 Only the best when I’m
Smoking the Sess /
Hawaiian mist I’m on a mystical trip / Puffing an ounce of Kush on the
Couch / Purple urkle got me seeing double now / I’m going to Canada
Man, Japan or Amsterdam / No matter where I’m at I’m going to smoke a
Gram / Four-way endo sipping on that swiss miss / With Mr. Nice here’s
The pipe now hit this / Elevate let’s create everyone together now /
Let’s celebrate / take a break though / If you don’t puff the drow / I
Know there’s those / That don’t smoke so pass it to the left / You
Know how it goes / The rotation is ground breaking /


RICK ROSS – Dead Presidents lyrics


Rather you than me
If you’ve been fucking with me since Port of Miami
It’s been hell of a fucking journey
M-m-maybach Music
Ain’t nun’ changed nigga
Lil’ stronger, lil’ wiser, maybe a lil’ more violent
Blame it on America
Fuck it
Beat Billionaire

I’m pulling off the lot, I bought the cash
Her future bright, don’t give a fuck about her past
Her ass be looking good inside the leggings
But I know that she’s missing all the edges
I run the game just by running with the felons
Pour out the Judy, got rich nigga calisthenics
Walking in the court room, sipping on the beverage
I know the judge so I got a lot of leverage
Pissing on these bitches is a fetish (R. Kelly)
Fully loaded .60s smoking on a seven (all ready)
Your dawg get a dime, you never wrote a letter
Still in a box, got her rapping acapella
Can’t trust no people fucking with the presser
I got a chopper, but don’t make me be the devil
He knocking on the door and all the Baswares
Gave me addresses where I’m hiding in the last verse

Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
They go to war, yeah, all my lil’ niggas militant
Let’s go to trial, we guilty to proven innocent
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
Fair sentences, fair, fair sentences
Let’s go to trial, we guilty to proven innocent

I got thirty white bitches like Tommy Lee
I make drug money, nigga, I make blood money
On my third passport, and I’m geechie as fuck
I got wet stripper pussy at the airport
I got molly green dollars on my transport
Bussing down a hundred bales in the bath tub
Fuck this Philippine pussy in some house shoes
I got dope money, nigga, I got war wounds
This the culture on the hammer, ain’t no dance moves
I was posted on the [??] stupid, hanging with my Haitians
Murder’s on the news, all front pages
Gunning and catching bodies, ain’t no relations
I was stacking Ben Franklins posted in Fiji
They rocking two times in a row, that’s a repeat
And I’m fucking niggas hoes cus they easy
I’m in here fucking niggas wives, balls breezy
She gotta fuck like she love like she need me
I got my Maybach flooded all with extra TVs
I make a movie every single fucking day
I John Travolta when I flood that Patek face

Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
They go to war, yeah, all my lil’ niggas militant
Let’s go to trial, we guilty to proven innocent
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
Fair sentences, fair, fair sentences
Let’s go to trial, we guilty to proven innocent

Let’s go!
Hands on these niggas, got the yellow bracelet
Check off in my pocket like the yellow pages
Fuck you niggas woes, when I was ashing nigga
Loafers in the chop, I keep it classy nigga
Build a empire, yeah that’s whats my state of mind
Motherfuck ’em all, yeah that’s whats my state of mind
Keep the block sober there, we call it Lego land
Meanwhile the kids smoking like its Amsterdam
Dope boy prez, you know who got the truths
Sixteen when I bought my first rollie
Legend in my hood just like I’m Escobar
Never riding dirty in the extra car

Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
They go to war, yeah, all my lil’ niggas militant
Let’s go to trial, we guilty to proven innocent
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
Fair sentences, fair, fair sentences
Let’s go to trial, we guilty to proven innocent


Rick Ross – Dead Presidents (feat. Future, Jeezy & Yo Gotti)


[Intro: Rick Ross]
Rather you than me
If you’ve been fucking with me since Port of Miami
It’s been hell of a fucking journey
M-m-maybach Music
Ain’t nun’ changed nigga
Lil’ stronger, lil’ wiser, maybe a lil’ more violent
Blame it on America
Fuck it
Beat Billionaire

[Verse 1: Rick Ross]
I’m pulling off the lot, I bought the cash
Her future bright, don’t give a fuck about her past
Her ass be looking good inside the leggings
But I know that she’s missing all the edges
I run the game just by running with the felons
Pour out the Judy, got rich nigga calisthenics
Walking in the court room, sipping on the beverage
I know the judge so I got a lot of leverage
Pissing on these bitches is a fetish (R. Kelly)
Fully loaded .60s smoking on a seven (all ready)
Your dawg get a dime, you never wrote a letter
Still in a box, got her rapping acapella
Can’t trust no people fucking with the presser
I got a chopper, but don’t make me be the devil
He knocking on the door and all the Baswares
Gave me addresses where I’m hiding in the last verse

[Hook: Jeezy & Yo Gotti ]
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
They go to war, yeah, all my lil’ niggas militant
Let’s go to trial, we guilty to proven innocent
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
Fair sentences, fair, fair sentences
Let’s go to trial, we guilty to proven innocent

[Verse 2: Future]
I got thirty white bitches like Tommy Lee
I make drug money, nigga, I make blood money
On my third passport, and I’m geechie as fuck
I got wet stripper pussy at the airport
I got molly green dollars on my transport
Bussing down a hundred bales in the bath tub
Fuck this Philippine pussy in some house shoes
I got dope money, nigga, I got war wounds
This the culture on the hammer, ain’t no dance moves
I was posted on the [??] stupid, hanging with my Haitians
Murder’s on the news, all front pages
Gunning and catching bodies, ain’t no relations
I was stacking Ben Franklins posted in Fiji
They rocking two times in a row, that’s a repeat
And I’m fucking niggas hoes cus they easy
I’m in here fucking niggas wives, balls breezy
She gotta fuck like she love like she need me
I got my Maybach flooded all with extra TVs
I make a movie every single fucking day
I [??] flood that Patek face

[Hook: Jeezy & Yo Gotti ]
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
They go to war, yeah, all my lil’ niggas militant
Let’s go to trial, we guilty to proven innocent
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
Fair sentences, fair, fair sentences
Let’s go to trial, we guilty to proven innocent

[Verse 3: Jeezy]
Let’s go!
Hands on these niggas, got the yellow bracelet
Check off in my pocket like the yellow pages
Fuck you niggas woes, when I was ashing nigga
Loafers in the chop, I keep it classy nigga
Build a empire, yeah that’s whats my state of mind
Motherfuck ’em all, yeah that’s whats my state of mind
Keep the block sober there, we call it Lego land
Meanwhile the kids smoking like its Amsterdam
Dope boy prez, you know who got the truths
Sixteen when I bought my first rollie
Legend in my hood just like I’m Escobar
Never riding dirty in the extra car

[Hook: Jeezy & Yo Gotti ]
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
They go to war, yeah, all my lil’ niggas militant
Let’s go to trial, we guilty to proven innocent
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents
Fair sentences, fair, fair sentences
Let’s go to trial, we guilty to proven innocent


Pouya & Fat Nick – Middle Of The Mall (Drop Out Of School Album)


[Hook: Fat Nick]
Been with the shit, stash a hundred in the walls
All my diamonds flooded, ain’t no middle of the mall
My steps, they cost a grit, Fiji crystals drip
Stupid little bitch gon’ put them lips up on my dick
Been with the shit, stash a hundred in the walls
All my diamonds flooded, ain’t no middle of the mall
My steps, they cost a grit, Fiji crystals drip
Stupid little bitch gon’ put them lips up on my dick

[Verse 1: Pouya]
She think she dancin’ on my dick, but that’s my Glock
Take my wallet out my ass and run around and watch ’em flock
To the kid with the tattoo and a flat toot 5’5
And he mad too with a bad attitude
All my bank payments overdue, I’m screwed
Fuck it, I’m buzzin’ out the fuckin’ roof
Can you please go stream me or bootleg my latest CD?
Help me get my bands up, help me get a Benz truck
I’m sick of this Honda, no A/C, turned to a sauna
Tell me how the fuck I just sold out The Fonda

[Hook: Fat Nick]
Been with the shit, stash a hundred in the walls
All my diamonds flooded, ain’t no middle of the mall
My steps, they cost a grit, Fiji crystals drip
Stupid little bitch gon’ put them lips up on my dick
Been with the shit, stash a hundred in the walls
All my diamonds flooded, ain’t no middle of the mall
My steps, they cost a grit, Fiji crystals drip
Stupid little bitch gon’ put them lips up on my dick

[Verse 2: Fat Nick]
Fuck, I crack the seal, drink it all, I can’t get up
These drugs, they got my vision fucked
I’m skirting out these Beamer trucks
30 milligrams of oxy, bitch I’m fuckin’ stuck
She suck my dick and then complain I’m too fucked up to nut
I got big bankrolls, Giuseppe prints on floors
I got percs and weed and lean behind my trap door
Curved a hundred hoes, ain’t got time for those
Pussy boy come over here, this fuckin’ blinkie blow

[Hook: Fat Nick]
Been with the shit, stash a hundred in the walls
All my diamonds flooded, ain’t no middle of the mall
My steps, they cost a grit, Fiji crystals drip
Stupid little bitch gon’ put them lips up on my dick
Been with the shit, stash a hundred in the walls
All my diamonds flooded, ain’t no middle of the mall
My steps, they cost a grit, Fiji crystals drip
Stupid little bitch gon’ put them lips up on my dick


Gunna & Offset – Beat Da Case


[Hook: Offset]
I beat the case, all this cash that I make
Pull up in Wraiths, had to chop off the [?]
Pull up in them horses, two million endorsements
Tryna get on some Forbes shit
Wave the flag it’s a forfeit
Money come ’round like a orbit
Evaporation, I absorb it
Lambo green it’s a tortoise
Eat the molly ’til I’m nauseous
Surround myself with the bosses
Cause they done had it and they lost it
These diamonds hittin’ on me [?]
I fucked your bitch and it ain’t cost me
I fucked your bitch and it ain’t cost me

[Verse 1: Offset]
My diamonds green, not from Boston
You talking mean so I often
You was a lawyer so you lost me
Deliver my diamonds I ordered these
I kick the bitch out, she recorded me
I double back cause she a [?]
You niggas is soft like velour [?]
Stack it, stack it, stack it up
A whole ‘nother bracket, I leveled up
All of the gang, got bezeled up
Stay in your lane you don’t make enough
Parked the Benz on the side
My ex-bitch got 5
Frog eyes, mob ties
She choosing on me, all live
All [?] black pride
Lambo doors open wide
Sipping Actavis, a 9
Cocaine still alive

[Hook: Offset]
I beat the case, all this cash that I make
Pull up in Wraiths, had to chop off the [?]
Pull up in them horses, two million endorsements
Tryna get on some Forbes shit
Wave the flag it’s a forfeit
Money come ’round like a orbit
Evaporation, I absorb it
Lambo green it’s a tortoise
Eat the molly ’til I’m nauseous
Surround myself with the bosses
Cause they done had it and they lost it
These diamonds hittin’ on me [?]
I fucked your bitch and it ain’t cost me
I fucked your bitch and it ain’t cost me

[Verse 2: Gunna]
I fucked the bitch she caused a collar
I fix my chain, I pop my collar
I take out flights out to the pilot
I walk in the bank and deposit
I came out from Fiji from overseas
I’m fucking that bitch from the Philipines
Don’t try to look you can’t ordered these
I put some nut on her double d’s
My short got a snake by double G
I see it, I buy if I want it
Got VVS [?]
[?] loner
I just put a AK on my shoulder
She got a new spot for the soldiers
[?] that new Bentley truck [?] over
I’ma thumb through the check ’til it’s over
The [?] can’t see a E
Still can pull up and cop a P
The police ain’t shit they can’t stop a G
Dropped a 100 k when they indicted me

[Hook: Offset]
I beat the case, all this cash that I make
Pull up in Wraiths, had to chop off the [?]
Pull up in them horses, two million endorsements
Tryna get on some Forbes shit
Wave the flag it’s a forfeit
Money come ’round like a orbit
Evaporation, I absorb it
Lambo green it’s a tortoise
Eat the molly ’til I’m nauseous
Surround myself with the bosses
Cause they done had it and they lost it
These diamonds hittin’ on me [?]
I fucked your bitch and it ain’t cost me


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