Hang Up the Phone

Fucking that bitch in the back of the Range Rove
She spent the night but she left with same clothes
Snatch a nigga chain call that boy Django
Nah you can't smoke you can't hang over
Tryna get some money then I'm stuntin
These hoes show me love
Strip clubs throwing hunnit dancers coming
Tryna toot it up
They gave me the bag and I threw up ugh
Ops at yo spot so we shoot it up ugh
Ella Mai molly we booted up ugh
Feds on yo ass Hemi boosted up ugh
Dolce gabbana bandanna my chains go bananas
She gave the peach like Atlanta
Going round doing shows and meeting these hoes
They sit on my llike I'm Santa
Olly that bitch to my bros (I'm tony hawk)
Moncler coat on my clothes (I'm really hot)
They said brick got so many of flows(I switch it up)
You niggas ain't wanting no smoke (you only talk)
Black and yellow whip with the peanut butter seats I call that hoe Charlie Brown
Choppa singing like Whitney I'm hitting that trigger they call my ass Bobby Brown
I was the kid on yo block with the skuddada
I was the trap on yo block cocaine cuttin up
Smokin on woods you know ain't no Dutch in here
Toting them poles like it we was studs in here
Bitches folding callem origami
Cuz that bitch gone slob me
Codiene got me tweaking
Got me leaning turn me to a zombie
South city forever my home
Ballin AI like I'm post Malone
Find me on google I'm holdin that chrome
Banging Lil nigga put 5 on yo dome ugh yeah



Credits
Writer(s): Brandon Love
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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