Who (feat. Young Thug)

Foreign cars everywhere
Bad bitches everywhere, take the tool everywhere
We make this money everywhere
Everywhere, everywhere, everywhere, everywhere
These niggas straight outta the hood, they goin' to Paris
That whip that we whippin' exotic, these bitches exotic on gas (Metro Boomin want some more, nigga)

Pull up and hop out, a foreign car (whoo!)
And I'm gettin' trailed by a foreign broad (ow)
I'm livin' life like an Avatar, I got a stick when I pull up on y'all (ow)
Who the fuck think I'm a sucka?
Who the fuck think I won't pull up and let loose? (Who the fuck? Who the fuck?)
I got three bitches with me
I'ma pull up on Bleveland, they gon' fuck the crew

Who gonna stop me now? Who's gonna stop me now?
Who's gonna stop me, boy? Who? (Whoo!)
I can't get all of you, somebody come with me
Just in case, you can tie shoes (whoo!)
How many times have I told you
If you don't fuck everyone, that'll be rude? (Rude)
How many times have I told you to bring me-me bags and you could be cool

Check gang
Let's have a moment of silence for niggas ain't 'round with us ('round with us, 'round with us)
(Oh, oh, oh)
Doin' bookin', come through (ooh)
Splash on niggas, on the gas on niggas (yeah, ah)
In Milan, eatin' fettuccine (whoo!)
Front row with the fashion show niggas (whoo!)
Fuck around and go buy a Lamborghini (woo-woo)
I'm goin' NASCAR on niggas (ay)

Puffin' on the la-la
I've been the fly guy when niggas rocked Izod
I'm movin' chickens like Popeye (oh)
Old money, new money
Nigga never gettin' old, threw a young nigga rock (whoo, rock)
Cookin' up the raw dope right now (right now)
Cookin' up the raw dope right now
Used to break down a whole ounce (ounce)
I used to break down a whole ounce (ounce, ounce)

I gotta weigh the money up now
It's takin' too long for me to count (takin' too)
Decisions, decisions
You fuckin' with me, that's a head on collision
Them MACs and them TECs and them FNs, them .9s
We hustled, we struggled, we made it and grind (yeah)
Nigga this Avatar
Ay, the Young Thug goin' brazy, Young Thug goin' brazy (sheesh)

Hannah Montana, bangin' in red bandanas, blatt, blatt
They wanna fuck on me 'cause I keep choppas with ammo (shoot, shoot-shoot)
Niggas gon' hate on me 'cause I'm at the top with bro though (ooh)
Head honcho, hold up, kicking your mom door, shoot with the .44

Hell is you doin'?
Hold up, wait, I can't breathe, nigga (slow down)
Half a mil' I done took on my street, nigga (swept up)
All white, Thug fit, I won't eat, nigga (shoot)
Ran off with them keys, I won't see them niggas

Geeked up but the money geek
I run bands up on another street
Best stylist in the world can't dress me (no)
Keep a pistol just in case he wanna test me, test me
I keep racks and all of my niggas gon' eat
I keep racks and all of my niggas gon' eat
Where's Tar? Man, I need me some Xans
I just left the beach, I'm having all of the sand, hey

Pull up and hop out, a foreign car (ow)
And I'm gettin' trailed by a foreign broad
I'm livin' life like an Avatar, I got a stick when I pull up on y'all (ow)
Who the fuck think I'm a sucka?
Who the fuck think I won't pull up and let loose? (Who the fuck? Who the fuck?)
I got three bitches with me
I'ma pull up on Bleveland, they gon' fuck the crew

Who gonna stop me now? Who's gonna stop me now?
Who's gonna stop me, boy? Who? (Whoo!)
I can't get all of you, somebody come with me
Just in case, you can tie shoes (whoo!)
How many times have I told you
If you don't fuck everyone, that'll be rude? (Rude)
How many times have I told you to bring me-me bags and you could be cool



Credits
Writer(s): Jerome Kern, Oscar Ii Hammerstein, Otto Harbach
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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