Dive into a world where opulence meets audacity, and the hustle never sleeps. This track is a flamboyant celebration of success, flaunting wealth with Patek watches, Rolls-Royce trucks, and luxurious villas. The lyrics paint vivid scenes of high life escapades—from lavish parties brimming with hundreds of women to adrenaline-pumping moments in stolen whips. Underneath the glittering surface lies a gritty tale of relentless ambition and street smarts. It's about rising from the grind, outsmarting adversaries, and reveling in hard-earned victories. With swagger and bravado, this anthem encapsulates the essence of living large while staying true to one's roots.
That Go!
Lyrics
(Ayy, Yung, boy, he got that talent)
(Yo, Nick Papz, make it slap)
Yeah, this twenty a pill
Ran up a checky, this Patek baguetty, made twenty more mil'
Drop on the oppper, then jump on the chopper and go to the Hills
My youngin' go Call of Duty with that chopper and he wanna kill
Yeah, shitted on a nigga, did it on purpose
I tell my other bitch, "Go with my other bitch"
Just to get my other bitch a new Birkin
Pretty white toes, pussy was perfect
Fuck in the back of the 'Bach with the curtains
Fuck from the back, and this bitch started squirtin'
No, you didn't get this shit on my Persian
Ooh, go get this bitch a new Presi', cool
I charge my card I don't feel it, she outta lane, she healin'
Now she on a plane, she chillin' and she post a pic on the 'Gram, you feel it
I know that nigga wanna kill it 'cause she in a villa, goin' ham with Tequila
Made it my plan to get richer
I pull up, I jump out the Lamb', me and Jigga
Whoa, this that go shit (yeah)
Lil' bitch tryna act smart with me, but she don't know shit (yeah)
7-Eleven, I bought all the Backwoods, sodas and Trojans (and Trojans)
It's like five hundred bitches at the crib but we still lettin' more in (yeah, more in)
Whoa (whoa), this that go shit (that go shit)
This that stunt on them niggas, might put two watches on both wrists (let's go)
My trap boomin', these niggas out here ain't havin' no motion (no motion)
Back in the day we was hoppin' in whips and ridin' it stolen (stolen, skrrt)
Rolls-royce truck with the freak of the week (week)
Chasin' the dreams, I'ma pass her to Meek (to Meek)
Nigga, I'm a wolf, can't hang with the sheep (can't hang with the sheep)
Water on my neck but my chain at the beach (let's go)
Pull up to your block with a motherfuckin' thotty (let's go)
Every nigga with me down to go and catch a body (okay)
Y'all niggas trappin' out the hotel lobby (okay)
Wipe you niggas nose like that motherfucker snotty
I'm in the trap with a thick bitch (bitch)
Yeah, I used to hustle, had to risk it (gang)
Most you niggas fried like a fish stick
If he a snitch, can't kick it
I'm with the gang and we deep (deep)
Just like a dog, put a nigga to sleep
Bad lil' bitch try to send me on the sneak
No TLC, but a nigga gotta creep
Shoot it like JJ (JJ), spin a nigga block like Beyblade
If I hit the block that's a payday, hurricane AP, A Bay Bay
Made it my plan to get richer
I pull up, I jump out the Lamb', me and Thugger (slime)
Killin' the crib with no cutter
Feelin' like Ving Rhames, it's guns and butter
(Whoa), this that go shit (yeah)
Lil' bitch tryna act smart with me, but she don't know shit (yeah)
7-Eleven, I bought all the Backwoods, sodas and Trojans (and Trojans)
It's like five hundred bitches at the crib but we still lettin' more in (yeah, more in)
Whoa (whoa), this that go shit (that go shit)
This that stunt on them niggas, might put two watches on both wrists (let's go)
My trap boomin', these niggas out here ain't havin' no motion (no motion)
Back in the day we was hoppin' in whips and ridin' it stolen (stolen, skrrt)
Abracadabra, my bitch way badder
My wrist out the motherfuckin' batter (slatt)
Fish parquet, I smoke on her face
Green diamonds, I fucked up my bladder (yeah)
Motherfuck a trend, I been with my kids in the spot
'Cause family matter (on God)
Everything else you speakin' about
Might get your ass whooped like a paddle (slatt)
Yeah, fishscale, no scale, weigh it up
I spent twenty mil' on a crib, pay it up (on God)
In Dubai but the bitch from Israel
Call my phone, you fine as hell
In designer, but I will kill
You done sipped you a pharmacy, I can tell
Yeah-yeah, yeah-yeah (yeah)
My bitch, wrist clean
I flex, don't bend, I am the king (The king)
Hundred bands can clean up the scene (on God)
Had your wife and you thought it was a dream
Nigga kicked through the door with the bling
I took off in a foreign machine (sex)
(Whoa), this that go shit (yeah)
Lil' bitch tryna act smart with me, but she don't know shit (yeah)
7-Eleven, I bought all the Backwoods, sodas and Trojans (and Trojans)
It's like five hundred bitches at the crib but we still lettin' more in (yeah, more in)
Whoa (whoa), this that go shit (that go shit)
This that stunt on them niggas, might put two watches on both wrists (let's go)
My trap boomin', these niggas out here ain't havin' no motion (no motion)
Back in the day we was hoppin' in whips and ridin' it stolen (stolen, skrrt)
Big racks, spendin' big racks, that's big business
Pull up to the club with a pole on me, niggas thinkin' I been fishin'
Find me on a yacht full of bad-ass bitches like HOV, I'm big pimpn'
Writer(s): Camren Martin, Jeffrey Williams, Nikolas J. Papamitrou, Robert Rihmeek Williams, Tafa Peters
Copyright(s): Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, SINGLES PUBLISHING, LLC, Reservoir Media Management, Inc., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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