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作词 : Miles Parks Mccollum/Earl Isaac Bynum
作曲 : Miles Parks Mccollum/Earl Isaac Bynum
Sippin' the peach soda
The n!ggas inside, they gon' hide 'til the heat is over (Frrp)
Sippin' the peach soda
The n!ggas inside, they gon' hide 'til the heat is over (Frrp)
Sippin' the peach soda
The n!ggas inside, they gon' hide 'til the heat is over
I'ma rap 'til the beat is over
Two Chanel bags, the same price as my mink sofa
And I move like the king cobra
Slimin' them out, dawg, I didn't have to think it over
(Earl on the beat)
Frrp
Sippin' the peach soda
The n!ggas inside, they gon' hide 'til the heat is over (Uh)
I'ma rap 'til the beat is over (Uh)
Two Chanel bags, the same price as my mink sofa (Go)
And I move like the king cobra (Go)
Slimin' them out, dawg, I didn't have to think it over (Slatt)
This lil' b!tch, I'ma bend her over
After I'm done, call the gang, I'ma send her over (Gang)
I'm in tune with the UPS (Yeah)
Waitin' on packages, KPreme gon' do the rest
Got some b!tches in Budapest
Strapped with them Ks, they walk 'round wearin' bullet vests, ooh, frrp
I need you to do more, but speak less
Youngins gon' open, uh
Youngins gon' open 'em up like some Mucinex (Go)
Give me top, baby, keep the s*x (Go)
My d!ck get bigger when I see a money check
Used to didn't have a hundred bands (Beep)
Now I'm outside with the gang doin' the money dance
I'm in rush hour, roadrunnin' (Mm)
I'm in rush hour, roadrunnin' like Jackie Chan
My big brother was beatin' pans (Beat it)
Lil' brother psyched out, he might go shoot your mans (Buh, buh, beep)
Sunday through Sunday (Sunday)
I got them b!tches comin' on the runway (On the runway)
Fxck with the feng shui (Feng shui)
Break up his back like the wood like a sensei
Fxck did that nigga say? (Fxck)
You wasn't 'round at the gym back at Little Lake (Beep)
Split
Yeah
Uh-huh (Too much slime, Earl, hold it on)
Yeah (Hold that sh!t down, n!gga)
Uh-huh (I'mma see it, you gon' see it and now he see it)
Really had a doubt
Uh-huh (Yeah)
Uh-huh (For real), uh-huh, uh-huh
Beep, look (Go)
I'm hated that much, I don't give a d**n (Go)
I used to swipe for enough to the Skype through the night
I would eat on a Grand Slam (Swipe)
Don't be like me, I'm a millionaire
Still ridin' dirty 'round town like a millionaire (Don't be like me)
These n!ggas softer than Build-A-Bear
Penthouse, still make her eat with no silverware (Shit, ayy, fxck)
I'm crackin' this b!tch like some software (Go)
I got her boyfriend on my crosshair
He talkin' down (Pew), go to Sound
I'm in New York, need a loft here (D**n)
B!tch, I'm a motherfxckin' boss here (D**n)
No, ain't no n!ggas soft here (Fxck 'em)
My n!ggas down, they came from the town (Phew)
They let it off here (Slatt)
Audemars, baguette, ice me (Ice)
Why I be fxckin' this pricey?
She wanna beat up the wifey (She was down)
I like them baguettes, all of 'em emeralds
Bend this sh!t, look like a icy (Ice)
Came from the school, check out the IQ
I made more guap than the IT (Yeah)
Yeah, nah, whole time n!ggas hold sh!t down (Frrt, frrt, hold it down)
Yeah, whole time n!ggas never lied
N!ggas keepin' hundreds around (Whole time, frrt)
Yeah, home alone, n!gga, run up on me, don't like Macaulay Caulkin (Sh!t, sh!t, sh!t, yeah)
Two-fifty for the Bentley coupe, I ain't drivin' it (Fif-, yeah)
A lot of my choices was dumb sh!t
They ain't pull up on a block and they dump sh!t
My n!ggas got red on their head
I'm red on their head, that's some Trump sh!t (Brrt)
I'm swervin', the Bourbon, the holler (Skrt)
Swervin' the whip on some drunk sh!t (Swerve)
I'm not a fighter at all
But I stomp his head when even dead (Prrt, prrt, prrt)
Won't get a foot in my conscious (Poh)
These b!tches hand 'round for the contest (B!tch)
You took it way outta context (Oh)
And youngin' gon' blow like a Semtex (Sh!t, beep)
They livin' world like some Germans (Hee)
Just how my n!gga, his turn next (God)
Burn that sh!t down
Play with me, b!tch, I'ma burn it (Burn)
Yeah (Burn), you n!ggas earn it (Brrt)
I'm speaking on that sh!t you don't know about
Before you speak on, I'm gon' learn that
Sh!t, sh!t, yeah (Sh!t)
For real, keepin' this sh!t for real (Beep)
Three and a two like Shaquille (Yeah)
I don't even know how to feel (Beep)
Yeah, nah, whole time n!ggas hold sh!t down (Frrt, frrt, hold it down)
Yeah, whole time n!ggas never lied
N!ggas keepin' hundreds around (Whole time, frrt)
Yeah, home alone, n!gga, run up on me, don't like Macaulay Caulkin (Sh!t, sh!t, sh!t, yeah)
Two-fifty for the Bentley coupe, I ain't drivin' it (Fif-, yeah)
Frrt, frrt (Go)
Frrt, frrt
Frrt, frrt
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