Ready to dive into a world where opulence meets the underworld? In this track, 2 Chainz and Lil Baby flex their lyrical muscles, painting a vivid picture of a life where money flows like water and danger lurks around every corner. They boast about their riches—think Dior hats, Maybachs, and VVS diamonds—while giving a nod to their hustler roots with tales of trappin' and dodging the law. The "kingpin" vibe is strong, but there's also an element of ghostwriting in play, suggesting they’re masterminds behind the scenes. It’s a high-stakes game of survival and success, peppered with street wisdom and swagger.
Kingpen Ghostwriter
Lyrics
This shit hard Buddah
I'm finna put that motherfucking
Heroin flow on that motherfucker though
(Buddah Bless this beat) Tony
Money comin', comin' in a hurry
Niggas on the run, eatin' like nori
Sound like a kingpin but writing for me
Got my first plug out in California
Yeah yeah, pesos stack, yeah yeah
Dior hat, yeah yeah, opp got whacked, yeah yeah
Ain't had nothing to do with that, yeah
My fleet orange and black, yeah
On concrete I tap, yeah
Water on the neck, ain't tap, yeah
Alkaline white strap, yeah (strap)
VVS's, she got a bust down, she bust it down like she naked
And the trappin' hot (hot), told her, "Come and dance" (dance)
Didn't have no AC on, all we had was only fans (woo)
Pinky ring summer (summer), limousine, uh-uh (uh-uh)
Got the Maybach truck, bought the Maybach car a partner
You ain't seen what I done seen, these lizzy cost at least a G
Gangsta music like Eazy-E's, when it come to trappin', I'm 23
Moon walkin' like Billie Jean, my pistol boss, my kitchen clean
Everything got cut throat like a razor blade and amphetamine, uh
Money comin', comin' in a hurry
Niggas on the run, eatin' like nori
Sound like a kingpin but writing for me
Got my first plug out in California
Yeah yeah, pesos stack, yeah yeah
Dior hat, yeah yeah, opp got whacked, yeah yeah
Ain't had nothing to do with that, yeah
Gucci shorts, Gucci socks showin'
I hit Derrick for a box of ones
Hit Allure, let the thots have fun
He acting like me, that is not my son
He might be the two but he is not the one
This shit that I do it is not for fun
Everybody gon' go, you is not the car
Rockin' ice like I'm tryna get a knot on my arm
We got sticks in this bitch, we don't got no alarm
When the heat didn't work, used the stove to get warm
My lil' nigga down bad, he supposed to be home
Stuck around for too long, was supposed to be gone
Let them folks do you wrong, you supposed to be strong
If I had to, I still could go and post in my zone
I got some houses to trap out, I got a ho house to stay at
Too hard, you know how I play it
I don't gotta tell 'em, they know what I'm sayin'
Five mil' in blue, let 'em know I ain't playin'
Back of the 'Bach, gettin' head while I lay there
You wanna fuck with a nigga, just say that
Mclaren fast, it belong on the race track
None of that bullshit, you know I ain't play that
I had to clean up, who come through and spray that?
Money comin', comin' in a hurry
Niggas on the run, eatin' like nori
Sound like a kingpin but writing for me
Got my first plug out in California
Yeah yeah, pesos stack, yeah yeah
Dior hat, yeah yeah, opp got whacked, yeah yeah
Ain't had nothing to do with that
Writer(s): Dominique Jones, Nolan Presley, Tauheed Epps, Tyron Buddah Douglas
Copyright(s): Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Reservoir Media Management, Inc.
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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