Rob49 and Icewear Vezzo - BMF
Yeah
Yeah
If you trappin' like you say you is, throw up your scale
I been out here blowin' money fast, nigga, BMF
This ain't no Scat Pack, this a Hellcat with your crazy self
I'ma fly my bro back to Cali, get that package mailed
I just stuffed like 200 Ps inside a vacuum seal
My ho just wan' go to Miami, get her titties did
You ain't never sell a hunnid pack, nigga, how the fuck you young and lit?
You ain't never go buy a bitch nothin', how the fuck you claimin' pimp?
How you say it's good, behind closed doors you out here claimin' smoke
Cullinan long, my ho bald head, she look like Doodie Lo
Call a nigga bluff, got killers with me, I don't need no bodyguard
Call it what you want, let a nigga play, I'ma put them niggas on you
And I like goin' illegal, nigga
And I like fuckin' beaucoup bitches
Look light but I keep my pistol
I'ma make 'em come creep up on you
Bruce Lee how I kick shit, I'm a real bag getter
Alright, he be tryna play hard to get but I know bro hit it
Told me believe it, but I can't
Don't touch 4, I got some rank
All this money gave me power, whip the Trackhawk like a slave, nigga
If you trappin' like you say you is, throw up your scale
I been out here blowin' money fast, nigga, BMF
This ain't no Scat Pack, this a Hellcat with your crazy self
I'ma fly my bro back to Cali, get that package mailed
I just stuffed like 200 Ps inside a vacuum seal
My ho just wan' go to Miami, get her titties did
You ain't never sell a hunnid pack, nigga, how the fuck you young and lit?
You ain't never go buy a bitch nothin', how the fuck you claimin' pimp?
Pints of lean, that's 300 Gs, it come off vice and easy
Got a extra hunnid in that cutter, that bitch slicin' trees
Pop two 6s, rollin' off them bean that's why I bite my teeth
Throw that dog shit up, we rain up weak until it's time to leave
Got a extra brick right buy the stove that came from cookin' lows
Pull it out her mouth and bust a nut on top her pussy hole
Fetty way too strong, don't overdose and we got off the road
Switchy on this bitch, it shoot so fast, I damn near lost control
He almost home
That mean that he gone, we gotta talk in codes
Bro gon' spin around for no bitch, look like he lost his phone
My lil' jit rather take a hit before he drink some trish
Bust it out the rapper and our zips look like a plate of grits
If you trappin' like you say you is, throw up your scale
I been out here blowin' money fast, nigga, BMF
This ain't no Scat Pack, this a Hellcat with your crazy self
I'ma fly my bro back to Cali, get that package mailed
I just stuffed like 200 Ps inside a vacuum seal
My ho just wan' go to Miami, get her titties did
You ain't never sell a hunnid pack, nigga, how the fuck you young and lit?
You ain't never go buy a bitch nothin', how the fuck you claimin' pimp?
Written by:
Robert Thomas, Joseph Steele, Chivez Smith, Ian Lewis
Publisher:
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
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