Quan Benji - Free My Brodie (feat. Bravoo)

I like money, you ain't gettin' pape then you cannot relate
Bitches love me, they just wanna fuck me, I don't do no dates
In the booth, recordin' with my 40, I feel like I'm Drake
Money callin', got a nigga rushin', I cannot be late

Designer junkie, off white fatigues
No, this not no Bape, fuck Versace, I don't wear Versace
I am not no snake, do what to who
Swear to God, that'd be your last mistake

Last opp we caught, lucky he escaped, he did the race
Shout-out to Tay-K, no, we don't play play
Niggas'll yoke you up, like what Fab did to Ray-J
We don't wait for Friday over here, everyday payday

Slippin' on Le Portier with my bitch, shout-out to Shay-Shay
You niggas funny, Ray-Ray, y'all can't even fuck with me on my worst day
I been gettin' hella cake, it ain't my birthday
My white boy, he a shooter like Reddick, we call him JJ

Fuckin' niggas hoes, I feel like AJ
Free me my Brodie out the you know he a head-tapper
Niggas dissin' till we turn him to a dead-rapper
You be flexin' your man's money, you a bread-capper

Palm Angels for the fit, I don't wear Kappa
Walk around with so much cash, I can't use a wallet
Blue strips be pokin' out of my Amiri Pockets
Wanna make some money, hit me, I don't do deposits

Drop the low, I'll pull up on you like a Uber driver
Just like a, uh
Look, I can't feel my face when I smoke all these opps
Put a beam on his head, watch the body drop

Brody don't be in the gym, but keep the jumper hot
I can't even tell the time when I look at my watch
Niggas said I ain't the one, boy, get off my cock
Niggas talkin' like some hoes, go and wipe your twat

I came from scrapin' bubble guppies out the Pyrex pot
You ever smell Deez nugs, nigga, come and shop
Ayy, step into the party, I don't know nobody
Bitches dancin' on my body, ass up on Glocky

Niggas can't Tekashi me, I would've killed shotti
I love scalin' all these grams, I turned it to a hobby
Cause it's gon' profit just as usual
I love makin' money off expensive pharmaceuticals

Niggas get a gun and get to thinkin' that they bulletproof
Fuck around and playin' with my gang, is what you shouldn't do
Free my Brodie out the you know he a head-tapper
Niggas dissin' till we turn him to a dead-rapper

You be flexin' your man's money, you a bread-capper
Palm angels for the fit, I don't wear Kappa
Walk around with so much cash, I can't use a wallet
Blue strips be pokin' out of my Amiri pockets

Wanna make some money, hit me, I don't do deposits
Drop the low, I'll pull up on you like a Uber driver
Just like a, uh
Just like a, uh

Written by:
DaQuan Brown, Javon Randolph Jr

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

Lyrics powered by Lyric Find