Good Drank
Lyrics
Used to treat my mattress like the ATM
Bond number 9 that's my favorite scent
Can't forget the kush I'm talking OG
Rest in peace to Pop, he was an OG
Oh yeah, 285 I had that pack on me
Uh, I cannot forget I had that strap on me
Yeah, rest in peace to my nigga Doe
All he ever want to do was ball
That was the easy part
We playing that Weezy hard
We sit in the kitchen late
We tryna to make an escape
Trying to make me a mil'
So I'ma keep me a plate
I told 'em shawty can leave
So I'ma keep me a rake
So I'ma keep me a Wraith
My jewelry look like a lake
Today, I'm in the Maybach
And that car came with some drapes
You know I look like a safe
I put you back in your place
I look you right in your face
Sing to your bitch like I'm Drake
Good drank, big knots
Good drugs, I put a four on the rocks
Drop-top, no hotbox
12 tried to pull me over, pink slips to the cops
She said the molly give her thizz face
Put the dick in her rib cage
Whips out, Kunta Kinte
Diamonds clear like Bombay
Take your babies, no Harambe
Play with keys like Doc Dre
3K like André
Need a girl, call her, come through
Your trunk in the front? Well, check this out, my top in the trunk
You play with my money? Then check this out, your pop in the trunk
Three mil in a month but I just did three years on a bunk
Oh, you in a slump? I'm headed to Oakland like Kevin Da Runt
What is your point? Square with the stamp, for Kevin Durant
Lay on my trap, play with my cap and I'll knock off your hat
I'm taking the cheese and killing the rats
Gucci Mane call me the cat with the rat
I'm swervin' but I'm in back of the back
I'm Persian, man, I got hoes from Iraq
I'm servin', I pay a bird for that
He nervous, I ain't got no word for that
He hurt and want all of his purses back
He mixing the seal with the Percocets
She perfect and she got perky breasts
I just want some of that turkeyneck
Trapper of the year, I'm from Boulder Crest
You snitch of the year 'cause you told the best
Good drank, big knots
Good drugs, I put a four on the rocks
Drop-top, no hotbox
12 tried to pull me over, pink slips to the cops
She said the molly give her thizz face
Put the dick in her rib cage
Whips out, Kunta Kinte
Diamonds clear like Bombay
Take your babies, no Harambe
Play with keys like Doc Dre
3K like Andre
Need a girl, call her, come through
Aye, Mike Dean
This shit hard as fuck, bruh
You a living legend, I appreciate that
Aye Guwop, I'm glad you home, cuz
Quavo, you already know, man
You got next on these niggas, double salute, man
True shit
2 Chainz
Hair Weave Killer
Daniel Son, the Necklace Don
Chapo Jr.
Writer(s): Mike Dean, Quavious Marshall, Radric Davis, Tauheed Epps
Copyright(s): Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Reservoir Media Management, Inc., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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