B.B.W.W x Fake Show
Lyrics
Yeah, bought a new white Wraith, last night, nearly crashed it
Spinning out on the highway, 720 in the ass
Bad bitch in the passenger, seen her whole life flashing
Ray whipping a McLaren right behind me, nigga, spun right past him
Thank God I'm alive
Thank God but I probably spent a bank job on a ride
Back bumper, white Wraith, cost 19k, uh
But that ain't none of my safe, uh
All you rappers ain't safe, uh
Let me say it with the bass, uh
All you rappers ain't safe, uh
All you singers ain't safe, uh
First single had me in the crib puttin' platinum plaques into place
Dropped Luv, went top pop club, everything just grace
Grammy-nominated on the first album, now motherfuckers see the face
Look at me
I know these niggas is trippin', these niggas are shook of me
Bust down, bust down, bust down
Raphael, look what you did to me
I need the money at last
I need the money advance
Tell me the money is near, I ain't coming out the van
Keep close, gotta keep hoes by the G code
Got three hoes in the G4
Got A, B, C, D, E, F, G, X, Y and Z hoes
I'm still balling like D. Rose
I'm still popping off Vevos
I'm still looking like, wait
Still sipping on tea soles
My dick giant like Fifo, if you need know
Money singing in a C-Note like Do Re Mi Fa So La Ti Do
Did it for my niggas back home
In a fiend house, selling crack on a trap phone in a crack home
Winter time getting cold, had to go to Bramlea
Steal a jacket up out of Jack Jones
Rogers had me get mad at the phone bills, switchin' to the black phone, yeah
I had to switch to a Telus
Ain't really shit you could tell us
All of y'all niggas is jealous, ah
Running through the check, money upset
All of these niggas is mad at me
Ten chains, buy ten rings on a nigga look-alike swagged at me
I can't keep a girlfriend, too busy tryna make the bag happy
Cali girly throw it back at me in a back ally and a cat daddy, yeah
I say bust down, bust down
I throw dick at your bitch
She gon' touchdown, touchdown
Bitch, I'm up now, what now?
Fuck 'bout what you talkin' bout
That shit sound like us now
My shit sound like what now?
Prayin' that my exes don't ever get famous
Or flex on me with a rapper or an entertainer
Life in this business come with these different dangers
You rather lie, tell me tell me you still an angel
How you still an angel?
You be lyin', you just fuck some niggas on me and claim you see it from different angles
I see the danger
I find her crazy, shit, I know you as a good girl
Triple flow, trip returns turned stripper
Last night, call, hot sex off liquor
Trash bag full of every dollar at the bar
That you kneeling down to pick up for these niggas, throwin' it up
You hate it when niggas gettin' dirty with they ones
Ain't the reason why you 'bout to get them Louboutins though
Ain't the reason why you 'bout to get your rent paid
Tell them hoes throwin' shade, they should wear their best shades
She gon' make a thousand on a bad day
10 I was shippin', she don't ever take a half day
Told me dancin' was a path way
I did it to the fullest 'cause she hate to leave it half way
Hol' up, bust it
I can't trust it
Fuckin' with you got me goin' way up out the budget
Pour a shot up, this is for the last night
Last night, before I lost you to the fast life
Good girl gon' bad, you gon' do your thing
Anything to get the bag, go and do your thing
If she ever do it, she gon' do it for the bag
If she ever do it, she gon' do it for the bag
Good girl gon' bad, you gon' do your thing
Ignore the fake shit, you gon' see it back
If she ever do it, she gon' do it for the bag
If she ever do it, she gon' do it for the bag
Writer(s): Daniel Gonzalez, Daystar Peterson, Edgar Ferrera, Ernesto Armando Cornejo, Larry Cooper
Copyright(s): Lyrics © CONTINUUM ENT., Universal Music Publishing Group, THE ADMINISTRATION MP INC, EMPIRE PUBLISHING
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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