Rich The Kid, Famous Dex and Jay Critch - Where's Dexter

(Cassius Clay)
Yo, Dex, what's happenin'? (Yeah)
You know it's pretty women in here too, boy
You can, gotta keep that shit going, you know I'm talkin' 'bout?
We on that Rich Forever shit
I'ma pop my shit regardless, nigga
You know I spent a hundred twenty thousand on this
On my teeth, bitch, what up? (Talk that shit now)
What we doin'? Ooh (oh, yeah, oh, what)

She wanna hang with Rich Forever (she do)
She's texting her friends like, "Where's Dexter?" (Uh)
I'm fucking this bitch, but her nigga jealous
She look at my wrist, that's a Richard Millie (oh, what?)
'Member them days, was broke, was sleep on the floor
Huh, ain't doing it no more (oh, what?)
Baby, got good brain, where is your throat?
I got money, yeah, that shit on the floor (oh, yeah, goddamn)
Yeah, huh, ooh
Rock out at shows and I'll do it with my clothes off
I catch me a opp and I'm taking his nose off (nah)
She give me good brain, I hope I don't doze off (hope I don't doze off)
Girl, you look good, better with your clothes off
They taking these pictures with me, but, I don't know y'all
Looking at Rich, bro, you a show off
Can't hang with no goofies 'cause niggas be so soft

Ay, I drop a six then doze off
Don't kick it with niggas, I don't know y'all
Fucking all night off a Adderall
Dex dropped one-fifty on the new teeth
The way she suck the dick with the technique
Tryna book a show, that's a Patek Phillipe
I might walk through for one-fifty at least
Ooh, purple Molly
She gon' lick it off her body
Tell her, "Bust it open" like an old faucet
We ain't seen Rihanna, but my wrist rocky (hey)

Yeah, but my wrist, flooded (ice)
They keep talking, like "Show me some money" (show me)
He said he havin' it, we know he frontin' (you frontin')
Baddie, and she let me it all in her tummy (baddie)
She let me all in her rib cage (hey)
Straight off the block to the Bernstein (Skrt)
He try to play that he insane (stupid)
I got more chops than a Sensei
You know Hood Fav', I been paid (Hood Fav')
Two baddies, tryna see what her friends say (yeah)
I can't fuck with you niggas, you in the way (no)
And my cup full of juice like it's Minute Maid (lean)
Me in all black in a foreign, the big body roaring
It look like T-Rex (yeah)
They need to put it to rest, why they talking to me
If it's not 'bout a check? (Why?)
Louis on me when I'm chilling, a nigga still fly
I ain't gotta get dressed (hey)
Bag on me, I'm fully invested (yeah)
Fuck with shorty, she's good with the sex (hey)

She wanna hang with Rich Forever
She's texting her friends like, "Where's Dexter?"
I'm fucking this bitch, but her nigga jealous
She look at my wrist, that's a Richard Millie
'Member them days, was broke, was sleep on the floor
Huh, ain't doing it no more
Baby, got good brain, where is your throat?
I got money, yeah, that shit on the floor
Yeah, huh, ooh
Rock out at shows and I'll do it with my clothes off
I catch me a opp and I'm taking his nose off
She give me good brain, I hope I don't doze off
Girl, you look good, better with your clothes off
They taking these pictures with me, but, I don't know y'all
Looking at Rich, bro, you a show off
Can't hang with no goofies 'cause niggas be so soft

Written by:
Angel Fernandez, Clay Hillman, Dexter Gore, Jr., Dimitri Roger, Jason Critchlow

Publisher:
Lyrics © CONCORD MUSIC PUBLISHING LLC

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