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Woah, woahWoah, Look Killa (rave)Look Killa (rave)Look KillaI come in when they wakin′ upMy twin slide by, he’ll take your moneyAll these niggas said they makin′ moneyBut, honestly, they don’t make enoughThey ain’t makin′ nothin′That bitch keep frontin’My Trackhawk Jeep, I′m racin’, dawgAll this codeine help my numbnessPop a G6 molly and I′m takin’ offHonestly, I don′t do the lovin’And I’m stiff on hoes, but I like you, shawtyIt′s a drink party, we don′t go to no partiesAll these pints, it’s a Top Floor pharmacyI′m off all these drugs, I don’t go to no clubsAnd all these bitches tryna come through and fuck meI′m tryna figure out which one love meI’m tryna figure out which one trust meMy chain keep swangin′, my gang keep gangin’My bitch come through like all the timeAll I see is dollar signs, my brand new shades BalenciagaAll these clothes, I got Vetements problemsYes, I’m the nigga that made No StylistI go shoppin′, no personal shopperAin′t nobody touchin’ my swag (uh)I got way too much weed, too much drank in my bag, don′t touch that bagI get way too fly, I’m jet-lagged, and your bitch jet-laggedI just keep on goin′ back to back, with these hits and with this swagWe just keep on goin’ back to back, and honestly I′m tryna bag yaI keep a FN right on my hip, make a pussy nigga back upI go rockstar, raver, cowboy, and I put my weed in tobaccoI use my tennis chain as a lasso, most of these bitches just some gnat hoesI had to switch up my last ho, I’m not the nigga from last yearI come in when they wakin’ upMy twin slide by, he′ll take your moneyAll these niggas said they makin′ moneyBut, honestly, they don’t make enoughThey ain′t makin’ nothin′That bitch keep frontin’My Trackhawk Jeep, I′m racin’, dawgAll this codeine help my numbnessPop a G6 molly and I’m takin′ offHonestly, I don′t do the lovin’And I′m stiff on hoes, but I like you, shawtyIt’s a drink party, we don′t go to no partiesAll these pints, it’s a Top Floor pharmacyI′m off all these drugs, I don’t go to no clubsAnd all these bitches tryna come through and fuck meI’m tryna figure out which one love meI′m tryna figure out which one trust meAll of this shit can get uglyI put a mask on, I′m not uglyI just be countin’ up all this moneyI just be countin′ up all this moneyShe said I smell good when she hug meI think she smell good when she hug meCan’t let a broke bitch touch meCan′t let a broke nigga touch meCan’t let a opp nigga touch meMy diamonds polished, and yours are rusty (yeah)My diamonds rainin′, I use an umbrellaFrom out of the doors on the Cullinan (yeah)Her pussy rain and I use an umbrellaFrom out of the doors on the Cullinan (yeah)Back seat, roll up another one (yeah)Back seat, I pour up another cup (yeah)I’m the Look Killa, I came to killAnd honestly, it’s gettin′ scary, man (yeah)I might be the flyest in America (flyest)Tell these fuck niggas try it, I′m darin’ themI′m the best and it ain’t no comparisonAnd she call me one time, I′m thereAnd my brother called me up, I’m there (yeah)I put the platinum all in my hair (yeah)Rockstar, uh (yeah)I come in when they wakin′ upMy twin slide by, he’ll take your moneyAll these niggas said they makin’ moneyBut, honestly, they don′t make enoughThey ain′t makin’ nothin′That bitch keep frontin’My Trackhawk Jeep, I′m racin’, dawgAll this codeine help my numbnessPop a G6 molly and I′m takin’ offHonestly, I don’t do the lovin′And I′m stiff on hoes, but I like you, shawtyIt’s a drink party, we don′t go to no partiesAll these pints, it’s a Top Floor pharmacyI′m off all these drugs, I don’t go to no clubsAnd all these bitches tryna come through and fuck meI′m tryna figure out which one love meI’m tryna figure out which one trust me (yeah)
Writer(s): Bobby Sandimanie, Cade Blodgett, Nathan Cabrera, Thomas Ross, Corey Kerr<br>Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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Category: WHICH
