Waka Flocka Flame ft. D-Bo, Slim Dunkin, Travis Porter - Flex Lyrics

I'm flexin', I'm flexin'
I'm chillin' in our sessions
I'm in my private section, gettin' head and I'm textin'
I'm flexin', I'm flexin'
What she know 'bout flexin'?
Might pull up to the Weston and have your girl undressin'

I've this ice on me but my heart cold
I'm a real nigga, bitch, check my bar code
In the strip club, prolly at the Blue Fline
Scratches on the whip, bitch a Mini coupe thang

Okay I stepped up from the scene super clean
Got a 50 in my jeans, screamin' money ain't a thing
A vilt full of bottles, got some models and some beans
Man I'm just a young, checked up in the club ballin', 'cause my stacks' up

Okay I'm standing on the bar and all these bitches starin'
And my chain costs a Ferrari and my wrist costs a McLaren
What we sayin'? Flex, flex, flex, flex, flex, flex, flex

She want a nigga that can flex and her man can't do it
Man, I bought a half a pound then we ran straight through it
What we doin'? Flex flex flex flex flex flex flex

Okay all I know it flexes you
Some different check you more
Shorty suck my dick, can't hit the weed, I need an extra blunt
Spare tire in the trunk, ride with an extra shot
Spent your rent money at that Benihana restaurant
Gucci low, Polo, diamond dancing go go
Whole squad flexin' like that Arm and Hammer logo
Karate kickin', dojo
Paparazzi photo
Aggravated flexin', got these niggas playin' Nolo
We against bein' broke
Dirt Gang protest
We gon' stand harder than the mu'fuckin Bowflex
On this shit period, Kotex
Waterfall money in the club, got your hoe wet (D-Bo!)

Okay I'm standing on the bar and all these bitches starin'
And my chain costs a Ferrari and my wrist costs a McLaren
What we sayin'? Flex, flex, flex, flex, flex, flex, flex

She want a nigga that can flex and her man can't do it
Man, I bought a half a pound then we ran straight through it
What we doin'? Flex flex flex flex flex flex flex

Came to the club, seven chains, doin' too much
Black, white 'rari fame, Waka Flocka flexed up
Ah dog, valet smoking cush, boy I'm fucked up
Two clouds for my haters, throw your cups up
White Remy Martin but we buy by the case long
Smoke back to back 'til our motherfuckin' eyes closed
Paparazzi follow us everywhere we go
He know, she know, I'll be flexin', nigga
All this Remy Martin, I might mix it with some Rosay
Heavy rotation on the radio, you get no play
Ball, ball, ball, ball, ball, ball go and get it, nigga
You dream about it, I live it nigga
Flex!

Okay I'm standing on the bar and all these bitches starin'
And my chain costs a Ferrari and my wrist costs a McLaren
What we sayin'? Flex, flex, flex, flex, flex, flex, flex

She want a nigga that can flex and her man can't do it
Man, I bought a half a pound then we ran straight through it
What we doin'? Flex flex flex flex flex flex flex