LYRICS
作词 : Joshua Parker/Jason Critchlow/Maiya Earley
作曲 : Joshua Parker/Jason Critchlow/Maiya Earley
[Intro: Maiya The Don & Jay Critch]
Oh yeah, uh
Hood fave'
Let the—, let the—, let the— (OG Parker)
Ayy
[Chorus: Jay Critch]
Roll the gas, bro, what's up with it? (Gas, gas)
Shorty super bad and that ass got some junk in it (Fatty)
And they keep on throwin' shots, what, you still ain't drunk, nigga? (What, you still ain't drunk?)
Shout out to my mama, though, she ain't raised no punk, nigga (Nah)
[Post-Chorus: Jay Critch]
I was doin' bad and I got through with that (I'm done with it)
If you see her with me, she got rackies in her Louis bag (She coming with)
Put her in that foreign, she get wetter when I do the dash (Ayy, hey)
In my trap you need a tutor 'cause I do the math (Grrt, the math)
[Verse 1: Maiya The Don]
Blicky wit' me, I might do a drill in the Peon Hills (Grrah, grrah)
Thick as ****, look at all this ass, I ain't miss a meal (I ain't miss a meal)
Yellow whip, cream inside, look likе a banana peel (Woo, yeah)
Big Don, big money, big dog, I'ma big deal (Oh, yеah)
I been settin' trends, I see these ******* takin' notes, though (Uh-huh)
M's in the bank, double C's all on my torso (Woo)
I run through a check and I ain't trippin' on no broke ho
30K around my neck, thirty inches on my frontal (Yeah)
Front row at Kim Shui, diamonds doin' jujutsu
Magazine in the Chanel incase a ho got a issue (Grrt, baow)
Steppin' in my Lavin's, blew bag at the Comments
Hatin' hoes on my shit, I don't read they comments (They comments)
Yeah (Yeah)
[Chorus: Jay Critch]
Roll the gas, bro, what's up with it? (Gas, gas)
Shorty super bad and that ass got some junk in it (Fatty)
And they keep on throwin' shots, what, you still ain't drunk, nigga? (What, you still ain't drunk?)
Shout out to my mama, though, she ain't raised no punk, nigga (Nah)
[Post-Chorus: Jay Critch]
I was doin' bad and I got through with that (I'm done with it)
If you see her with me, she got rackies in her Louis bag (She coming with)
Put her in that foreign, she get wetter when I do the dash (Ayy, hey)
In my trap you need a tutor 'cause I do the math ('Cause I do the math)
[Verse 2: Jay Critch]
Don't come around me actin' stupid, brodie shoot 'em fast (Frrt, boom)
Money long, you could see that shit on Google Maps (Hood fave', ayy)
You could see it from a satellite (You could see it from a satellite)
Bad ***** weigh no weights but she eat it up, got appetite (Hey, eat it up)
I might pop out to the club with her (Pop out to the club)
Hit it while she playin with her toy, she fell in love with it (She fell in love)
And that brand new foreign is a toy, I'm havin' fun with it
All these niggas say they run the city, we the ones in it (That's the Money Gang)
Ayy, and we been the ones (And we been that)
I don't even know where the hate be comin' from, so I went and bought bigger guns (Bigger caps)
Plain Jane got racks like rim been done
Bad ***** with the dimples on (Yeah)
Move strange and the fam' gon' miss you, hug
Get popped like pimples on you (Get popped like—, cap)
[Chorus: Jay Critch]
Roll the gas, bro, what's up with it? (Gas, gas)
Shorty super bad and that ass got some junk in it (Fatty)
And they keep on throwin' shots, what, you still ain't drunk, nigga? (What, you still ain't drunk?)
Shout out to my mama, though, she ain't raised no punk, nigga (She ain't raise no punk, nah)
[Post-Chorus: Jay Critch]
I was doin' bad and I got through with that (I'm done with it)
If you see her with me, she got rackies in her Louis bag (She coming with)
Put her in that foreign, she get wetter when I do the dash (Ayy, hey)
In my trap you need a tutor 'cause I do the math (Drip, drip-drip)
[Outro]
(OG Parker)