FRANCHISE (feat. Future, Young Thug & M.I.A.) - REMIX

Haha, yeah

I made you get that Richard Mille and bust it down, bitch
I made you get that Patek first and bust it down, bitch
I came from out the jungle with this shit written on my arm, no cap (yeah-yeah)
I'm a franchise nigga, yup (you like a hunnid mil' up)

Yeah, ten Cuban links, I got game (200 million)
Yeah, I bought my first Rollie servin' 'caine, yeah
Told your main thing, shit, at least she can pour my cup
I put pink diamonds in your teeth, yup (Pluto)

Fully loaded, totin' magazine, yup (super)
Bitch, I'm rollin', and I'm on codeine, yup (bitch, I might be)
Pussy good and deep, she belongs to the streets, yeah
Swag in Tokyo and the plug Japanese, yeah

I been gettin' my check before I knew what was Nikes (knew what was Nikes)
Mixed breed bad bitch, bite me like I'm Tyson
PJ X-rated, know I make it thunder and lightnin' (yeah)
Take that nigga BIN and bring me a hunnid thousand ones

150 for the walkthrough, I'm totin' my gun (pew)
Me and slatt-slatt, that's Super Slimey shit (Super Slimey, ayy)
Swappin' hoes out, we just slimed the bitch out, yeah (swappin', yeah, alright)
Watch so froze, don't know what time it is now, yeah

Sak pasé, we shootin' with confidence (n'ap boule)
Buy a bitch a Birkie, that's a compliment, yeah (straight up)
Ballin' like the Lakers, won a championship, yeah (ooh-ooh)
Pluto, Freeband Gang (it's lit)

Yup, in my white tee (yeah)
Yeah, call up Hype Williams for the hype, please (it's lit)
Uh, they gon' wipe you before you wipe me (phew)
On boxes of checks, not my Nikes (ooh-yeah)

Cactis, not no iced tea (ah), uh, got 'em bamboozled like I'm Spike Lee (ah)
You need more than Google just to find me (ah)
I just called up bae to get her hyphy (ah, ooh)
Incredible, I-I, I-I, general, I just start the label just to sign me
Uh, me and CHASE connected like we Siamese (woo, woo, woo, ooh, ooh)
Uh, we've been on the run, feel like a crime spree, talk to me nicely (yeah)
(I seen his face, seen it) yup, on his white tee, uh (let's go)

Yeah, yup, call the Sprite people (call 'em, hol' on, brrt)
Private flight to France, tryna sight-see (on the private flights, brrat)
Popped him in his hands, he was typin' (da-da-da)
Caterpillar 'Rari, I fold it, lift it up (up)

I went on the stand, told the judge, "Pass my cup" (ayy)
Ran up 20 million, told the devil, "Keep the luck" (luck)
Keep that, keep that ho (uh-uh), R.I.P. Pop, keep the smoke (ayy, slatt)
Talk to me nicely (talk to me nicely), keep her on a chain, that ain't like me (that ain't like me)

Scotts with no strings, you can't tie me (Scotts with the, hol' on, bitch)
I'm higher than the plane, I'm where the Skypes be (doot, doot-doot, doot, hee)
Yep, in my slime tee (doot, doot-doot, hee)
Prince, he in his prime, yee (doot, doot, doot-doot, doot, hee)
Yellow bone too feisty, yee (doot, doot, doot-doot, doot, hee)
Clean him up, no napkin, yee (doot)

Yup, in my white tee (yeah)
Yeah, call up Hype Williams for the hype, please (it's lit)
Uh, they gon' wipe you before you wipe me (phew)
On boxes of checks, not my Nikes (ooh-yeah)

'Scuse me, backin' out of the cave, we built this shit off of pain
In the corporate buildin' I'm double-cuppin' champagne
Come through in quintuplets, automatics, same name
Tryna show all my young niggas how to start to believe
Comin' through with no top, she showin' the Mickey D's
After 12 a.m., come through with a special
Elevator, up to the top, this shit got levels



Credits
Writer(s): Gerald Tiller, Maurice Gleaton, Jamall Willingham, Jacques Webster, Bernard Leverette, Jeffery Lamar Williams, Mathangi Arulpragasam, Chase Benjamin, Nayvadius Wilburn, Teddy Walton
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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