Shanghai
(Fubu got that flame)
Yeah, uh (uh)
Woo
Cash out, cash out (uh)
(D-D-DJ Nick exclusive), uh
I'm hot like a stove
My jewelry so cold, she play with her nose
Look at my clothes (ooh)
Look at my bitch, she got the white toes
She wanna look lavish (uh)
I took her to Paris, but I can't do marriage
My shooters, they savage
My shooters, they shootin', they put you in caskets
I went to Coachella, uh
I met a white bitch, me and her did acid
I'm eatin' my cabbage
I felt like a Muslim the way that I'm fastin'
Niggas be pussy
Niggas be turkey, these niggas be sandwich
I feel like Ginobili
I did a crossover then I left hand it (let's go)
I get the racks
Just took your bitch, you not gettin' her back
I get the sack
I get the racks, you not gettin' the bag
I get the racks
Just took your bitch, you not gettin' her back
I get the sack
I get the racks, you not gettin' the bag
I get the racks
Just took your bitch, you not gettin' her back
I get the sack
I get the racks, you not gettin' the bag
I get the racks
Just took your bitch, you not gettin' her back
I get the sack
I get the racks, you not gettin' the bag
Went to Rodeo, might go to Soho
Kickin' this shit just like a dojo
Fuck little shorty, she just wanted a photo
Gucci my socks, underwear Polo
When I pull up, man, this feel like a car show
Might cop a Benz or a Monte Carlo
When I cop clothes, I don't look at the barcode
Dance with my passport, I been 'round the globe
NASA my pocket, my pockets can't hold
Like Little Baby, four pockets be full
Diamonds, they drippin', they wet like a pool
Went to Ruth's Chris, man, a young nigga full
Like Home Improvement, I play with that tool
Since the lunch table a nigga been cool
Green and white fours when I came back to school
She's poppin' that pussy, she sent me the nudes (cash out)
Ooh (uh, uh)
Yeah, uh (uh)
Woo
Cash out, cash out (uh)
(D-D-DJ Nick exclusive), uh
I'm hot like a stove
My jewelry so cold, she play with her nose
Look at my clothes (ooh)
Look at my bitch, she got the white toes
She wanna look lavish (uh)
I took her to Paris, but I can't do marriage
My shooters, they savage
My shooters, they shootin', they put you in caskets
I went to Coachella, uh
I met a white bitch, me and her did acid
I'm eatin' my cabbage
I felt like a Muslim the way that I'm fastin'
Niggas be pussy
Niggas be turkey, these niggas be sandwich
I feel like Ginobili
I did a crossover then I left hand it (let's go)
I get the racks
Just took your bitch, you not gettin' her back
I get the sack
I get the racks, you not gettin' the bag
I get the racks
Just took your bitch, you not gettin' her back
I get the sack
I get the racks, you not gettin' the bag
I get the racks
Just took your bitch, you not gettin' her back
I get the sack
I get the racks, you not gettin' the bag
I get the racks
Just took your bitch, you not gettin' her back
I get the sack
I get the racks, you not gettin' the bag
Went to Rodeo, might go to Soho
Kickin' this shit just like a dojo
Fuck little shorty, she just wanted a photo
Gucci my socks, underwear Polo
When I pull up, man, this feel like a car show
Might cop a Benz or a Monte Carlo
When I cop clothes, I don't look at the barcode
Dance with my passport, I been 'round the globe
NASA my pocket, my pockets can't hold
Like Little Baby, four pockets be full
Diamonds, they drippin', they wet like a pool
Went to Ruth's Chris, man, a young nigga full
Like Home Improvement, I play with that tool
Since the lunch table a nigga been cool
Green and white fours when I came back to school
She's poppin' that pussy, she sent me the nudes (cash out)
Ooh (uh, uh)
Credits
Writer(s): Adam Kirkman, Darius Tyree Mcqueen
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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